


Black Paint and Cherry Wine

by VagabondDiesel



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based in Door County, French-Speaking Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), General angst/moodiness, General drunkeness, Levi drives like a reckless idiot, Levi has a truck, Levi smokes like a motherfucker, M/M, Mechanic Hanji, Original Character(s), Plenty of witty banter, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Swimmer Levi, Tattoo artist Isabel, ereri, why does Eren smell skunky?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:21:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagabondDiesel/pseuds/VagabondDiesel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The scent of fruit in the air was almost sickeningly sweet in the midday sun, its light casting dappled shadows through the branches of the cherry trees that flickered with the notions of the wind. Far from wandering eyes, an old black Chevy truck rested between the lines of the grove. If one were to wander a little closer, it would become obvious that the cab was abandoned. No, the pop of a wine bottle being uncorked and the low murmur of conversation was coming from the bed of the truck...</i><br/> </p><p>Door County is a place with many different facets. For some, it's a getaway packed with comfortable resorts, art studios, shops and restaurants. For others, it's nothing more than their home county - albeit a nicer one than normal - and the place where they drag themselves to work every day. This is the story of two locals - one, a manager at an upper-class bar/restaurant, the other, a high school dropout trying to scrape enough funds together to enroll at the technical college in town. An odd course of events manages to simultaneously give one purpose and the other hope, while bringing them both together beneath the branches of the cherry trees in summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Day in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly wasn’t expecting myself to write this. These days, writing has become more or less like extreme constipation to me. I was genuinely surprised at how naturally this chapter flowed for me. Normally, something like this takes several days of beating my head against the desk and procrastination. In the spirit of it all, I’ve decided to share!  
> At any rate, enjoy!

  
      Thin lips compressed as they took a long drag off of a cigarette. The glowing cherry at the tip flared brightly as it burnt its way through the watery lettering stamped on the side. It now read, “TURKISH GO-“  
      Some people didn’t care about what they smoked. They’d jump for the cheapest pack on the shelves, or picked whatever happened to meet their flights of fancy. This smoker was not one of them. The only cigarettes that made their way into his pockets were the ones with the faux-gold trim around the edges of the box and the pale, diamond-print filters.  
      His devotion to the brand was solidified by a rumor that some cigarette manufacturers had started to use nicotine-soaked papers instead of traditional leaf tobacco. The same day, he had ripped apart one of his precious cigarettes to be rewarded with a fragment of something that had defiantly been a leaf in a past life.  
      That was good news. He would have hated to switch to American Spirits – the traditional cigarette of yuppies. Not that he was far from being one himself. He ultimately decided that he could take the blow to his ego, but not the one to his wallet. Smoking was a costly enough habit without spending nine dollars on a pack of organic tobacco.  
      He flicked his ash away before taking another slow drag, savoring the taste of it and the bite of nicotine on his tongue. He exhaled slowly, letting the smoke vent out through his nostrils, dragon-style. Say what you will about cancer - there was simply something glorious about a good cigarette on a warm spring day.

      If somebody were to wander by the derelict boat ramp set on the shoulder of a forgotten backroad, they would have seen the back end of an old black Chevrolet truck parked close to the water. If they intruded further, they might catch the eye of the slender, dark-haired man perched on the flawlessly waxed hood like a gargoyle.  
      An observant person would notice several things about this man – his narrowed eyes the color of storming waves, the slender brows set into furrows above them, silky hair cropped into an undercut, the dark tee draped over a lithe and muscular torso, and the Camel Turkish Gold cigarette held almost carelessly between two slender fingers.  
      He lingered there as that cigarette burned itself down to its filter, then lit a second one from the embers of the first. His gaze fixated on the shimmer of sunlight over the cold waves of the lake – looking, yet not truly seeing, lost in contemplation as the sun warmed his body and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair.

      Roughly an hour later, he was sprawled across the hood like a basking cat, almost delirious between the combined effects of exhaustion and the comfortable warmth of the black-painted metal beneath him. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, blocking out the light and changing the color of the insides of his lids from red to black.  
      In the back of his mind, he remembered that he had to work tonight – as if there was any night that he didn’t work. The owner of the upscale bar he managed was cordial and not unpleasant to work with, but was perpetually absent, leaving him to shoulder the brunt of the work that went towards keeping the establishment open. Not that he was complaining – managers were supposed to manage things, after all, and his paycheck was compensation enough for the effort he put in.  
      A weekday like this one shouldn’t be too chaotic. It was early enough in the spring to be in the off-season for the tourists that kept the county alive throughout the summer, and the local crowd was fairly sparse. The high dollar amount on their menu was enough to keep the trash in the local dive bars – the typical greasy places with wood paneling, taxidermy fish and deer heads (one with a deer’s ass – he didn’t believe it either until he saw for himself), and decades worth of black grunge built up in every corner.  
      The majority of Bistro 44’s clientele this time of year consisted of the retired population that nested in their half-million dollar homes on the lakefront and businessman away on oddly-timed sabbaticals. He and his wait staff played the parts that were expected of them; professional, politely engaging, and demure as they ferried costly bottles of wine and salmon dinners across the restaurant. They didn’t see their host nearly passed out on the hood on a pickup at noon, their waitress getting shitfaced drunk at a cornfield bonfire, or their chef screaming at the screen in the heat of an online gaming tournament.  
      People weren’t concerned about that. Could they be blamed? Who could be bothered with picking up the tangled skein of yarn of another person’s life when their own was just as unraveled? In the end, it was all the same stories, repeated endlessly, tunelessly, until their individuality lost any meaning.  
      The man on the hood of the truck huffed softly to himself. Be that as it may, this story was his, and it was one that he treasured. While he wasn’t an old man, he wasn’t young either. Several years ago, he had broken a vicious cycle of self-loathing with the realization that if he didn’t appreciate himself, nobody would. Life was cruel. There were many that would not hesitate to tear him down on a nearly nonexistent basis, and many more who simply didn’t care either way. In a world where he was alone, it was better for him to be on good terms with himself.  
      He wasn’t always successful, but his failures were natural. It would be inhuman to live a life entirely free of self-depreciation. Days like today helped, when he could lose himself in these hidden roads of the county and the bass rumble of his truck. There was just something about driving that felt right in his soul, in the way the scenery slipped past the windshield and the sunlight warmed his shoulder as he held the steering wheel and eased on the accelerator.  
      His thoughts felt fuzzy in his mind as he tried to stave off the sleep at the fringes of his consciousness. Mind and body protesting, he forced himself into an upright position and lit another cigarette as he clambered into the cab. A glance at the phone plugged into the console confirmed his suspicion that he had lingered at the boat launch for too long. The black truck growled to a start and spat gravel from beneath the tires as it rumbled away.

      The boat launch sat abandoned once again, as it usually was. The waves continued to hiss against the shore and the breeze wound its way through the bare branches of the trees as if nobody had ever been there at all.

\----------------

      He had expected the restaurant to be quiet, but he didn’t anticipate the complete lack of customers. There was only two other cars in the parking lot besides his truck – a horrible baby blue geo prism and a town and country minivan, both belonging to his employees.  
      One of them, a lanky looking guy with two-toned blonde hair, waved casually from the bench by the back door, phone in one hand and cigarette in the other.  
      “Levi! What’s up?” he announced as he came within hearing range. Levi’s gaze narrowed.  
      “Your cigarette burnt out.” A perplexed expression took over Jean’s features as he tried to take an experimental puff, managing to dribble ash on his black dress slacks in the process.  
      Levi “tch’ed” to himself as he pulled open the back door, biting back a comment about cleaning the ash off before getting back on the restaurant floor. He should be able to figure that out by himself. Then again, his staff never ceased to find ways to amaze him.  
      He carefully wiped his shoes on the entrance mat, taking note of the flecks building up on the carpeting of the hallway. He turned sharply to push through a door labeled “Employees Only”.  
      Once again, they had not failed to amaze him. Bubbly, upbeat music streamed from a set of speakers atop the glass-front vegetable cooler. Said vegetables were crammed into the dairy cooler, and in turn, a leggy, dark-haired girl was wedged inside the vegetable cooler brandishing a bottle of cleaner and a rag. Another pony-tailed girl was manning the industrial-sized sink, spraying down wire racks with bursts timed to the music. Neither of them seemed to notice his entrance as they launched into the chorus with the grace of cats in heat.  
“BECAUSE IT’S NINE IN THE AFTERNOON – AND YOUR EYES ARE THE SIZE OF THE- oh, hey Levi,” the girl in the cooler broke off, brushing her bangs behind a rose printed bandanna.  
      “Get to work! Boss is here!” the brunette at the sink howled, shooting him a face-splitting grin. Levi ignored it, choosing to prod at a half-eaten tray of deep-fried appetizers on the counter next to the sink.  
      “Sasha, you paid for your food this time, right?”  
      “Nope!” she retorted cheerfully. Levi crossed his arms, mentally bracing himself for an argument that occurred on a weekly basis.  
      “Steph found some expired stuff in that basement freezer, so we fried it up instead of tossing it in the trash. It would be wasteful not to!”  
      Levi’s eye had twitched involuntarily at the mention of eating expired food.  
      “How old was it? It’s been a few years since onion rings were even on the menu.”  
      “The bag said 2011,” Levi immediately regretted asking. “But it was frozen, so I’m sure it’s fine! It was just a little freezer burnt.”  
      He could literally feel his skin crawl and shook his head at the two. “Ugh. Disgusting. By the way, you look entirely too happy to be in that cooler.”  
      The bandanna-d girl waved her rag dramatically. “Adventures, Levi! Experiences! How often do you get the opportunity to sit inside a cooler?” He huffed, already making his way to the back office.  
      “Exactly!” she countered smugly.

      He found himself caught somewhere between irritation and satisfaction. He couldn’t get upset over the fact that the kitchen was getting the deep cleaning that it desperately needed, but surely, there had to be a better way of going about it.  
Levi locked the door behind him and began his daily ritual. The desktop in the corner was booted up, and the little Keurig machine beside it powered up and began to spit out a steaming stream of aromatic tea. After a cautious glance at the closed blinds, he dropped his jeans to tug on a pair of carefully ironed slacks and pulled on a long-sleeved, black button up shirt over his tee.  
It only took a moment to go over the daily mail. He sorted out a few invoices that had yet to be paid, setting them aside to be dealt with later on in the evening.  
      Mug in hand, he wandered back out into the kitchen, where the two were still in the throes of their mad cleaning ritual.  
      “Oi, who’s watching the front?”  
      “Connie should be up there. He got voted off the island.” the brunette chimed.  
      The double doors to the restaurant swung open easily at Levi’s touch, isolating the clamor from the kitchen as they closed behind him. The tables and bar were both devoid of patrons, as could be expected. Connie had some sort of toned down alternative music playing as he stacked the individual bottles of liquor on the varnished bar, wiping down each one as he went down the line.  
The young bartender jumped slightly when Levi spoke directly behind him. “How long has it been slow like this?”  
      “God, you’re light on your feet,” Connie exclaimed, rubbing the fuzz of his buzz cut nervously. “Eh, last people came in around two. I guess about an hour and a half ago?”  
      “Hm.” Levi crossed one arm over his chest, and took a gauging sip of his tea, holding the mug by its rim as he did so.  
      Back in the kitchen, Jean had finally brought an end to his infinite smoke break and was in the process of shrugging off his jacket. “Jean. Vacuum all the carpeting, then punch out and go home.” Sasha said something snarky about Jean's work ethic, and the two broke out into vigorous argument, the tone of it remaining more amusing than confrontational.  
      Levi retreated to the safety of the office, leaving the door slightly ajar. At some point, the music in the kitchen had been turned down to a tolerable volume, much to his relief.  
      The office chair creaked alarmingly as he took his seat at the desk, making him grimace. “New office chair” had already been noted somewhere in his logs – it was about time he got around to ordering one. That in turn reminded him that they were running low on toilet paper and paper towels – an order would have to be placed for those too.  
      He pinched the bridge of his nose before sliding on a pair of rectangular glasses. He refused to call them bifocals. They were gradated reading glasses. They day he wore bifocals was the day he had white hair.  
      The man in the office took a long drink from his tea before shuffling the pile of invoices on the desk in front of him.

      Roughly eight hours later, the invoicing was done along with next month’s schedule. The new office chair had been budgeted, along with the delivery of paper supplies. Business had picked up in the evening hours, providing a steady stream of customers to keep his staff busy. Connie worked the bar, Stephanie grilled in the kitchen, and Sasha took care of the tables, Levi stepping in to help her from time to time.  
      Not long after midnight, the other three piled into the rusting gold minivan on the lot as Levi finished locking up. Sasha waved furiously from the passenger seat and Stephanie revved the tired engine as it pulled away. He followed suit several minutes later, lighting the night’s last cigarette as he slid up on the truck’s single bench seat.  
      Somewhere on the way into town, one of the local police had chosen to tail him, not splitting away until he had pulled into his apartment’s parking lot. Last October, he had gotten into an unpleasant confrontation when one of them tried to peg him with an OWI after they saw his truck pulling out of the bar’s parking lot. Several sobriety tests and snide comments later, after denying the officer his request to search the cab, he drove away with a ticket for not wearing a seatbelt and a burnt-out license plate light bulb.  
      He couldn’t help but feel a little more relaxed as the marked Crown Victoria continued down the road. In a few swift motions, his key was turning in the lock to his apartment and the lights flickered on.  
      Levi’s apartment wasn’t fancy by most standards. It had the typical beige carpeting, off-white walls, and varnished wood trim of most complexes. He had done his best to modernize it with furniture like the chocolate-colored leather couch, minimalist desk, and glass coffee table, as well as with the modern art prints on the walls. In the end, it was his, it was clean, and it was comfortable.  
      As he sunk into the cushioning of his couch, a little tabby cat pranced around his ankles, doing her best to meow and instead emitting her characteristic strangled squeak instead.  
      He idly scratched at her ear as she tried to climb up on his shoulders, using her claws a little more than necessary. “Hey, cat. You need food or something?” Of course she did. Levi was the proud owner of a bottomless hole. He refilled her bowl in the small kitchenette before stepping into the shower a few moments afterwards, letting the steaming water wash over his body.  
      Being alone wasn’t a horrible thing. If anything, it was comfortable. He hadn’t had to share his living space with anyone since the years he went to technical college, when he rented a room from an empty-nester couple. They had been friendly enough, even giving him rides to classes when his pile of shit Ford Focus had broken down, but he always felt like he was infringing on them. It didn’t matter that, in reality, he wasn’t, but it made him uneasy all the same.  
      No, being alone wasn’t bad. He preferred it. The idea of accommodating another person’s habits and peculiarities unsettled him. Even the nights when his various casual encounters shared his bed set him on edge. In the morning, they were greeted with a pile of their own freshly-laundered clothes and a paper cup of coffee before they were swiftly ushered out. There were no hard feelings – it was simply the way Levi operated. In fact, he had already resigned himself to the idea that he would probably die alone.  
      He had his cat, his job, a good friend he could call on, and a few tolerable booty calls. That was all he needed, right? Right.  
      He cut off the water abruptly, meticulously drying himself off in the tub to avoid getting any water on the bathroom floor. Tying the soft black towel around his waist, he went about the process of brushing his teeth – twice, just because he had smoked more than usual that day – and combed out his still-damp hair so that it would dry properly. He felt at the soft stubble of his undercut as he locked eyes with the steely ones of the man in the mirror, wondering if it was about time to have it trimmed. He carefully regarded himself for a few more moments, mind churning thoughtlessly, before moving on.

      He ended up passing out on the recliner couch with a nature documentary droning quietly on the flat screen TV, wearing just his black yoga pants (so what if his ass looked good in them?) wrapped up in the flannel quilt his grandmother had made him when he first got his own place.  
      The little tabby wound herself in a ball next to him, purring away in the crook of his knee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you for taking some time to read through this piece of my mind! I know it's a bit of a short chapter, but I'm just getting the ball rolling. I'm already halfway through the draft of the second, so sit tight!  
> I don’t normally share my writing, so please feel free to leave me a note or a comment or a kudo or whatever. I’d appreciate the feedback! :] That being said, if you are a hater, please go fall in a hole. There’s a difference between constructive criticism and being an asshole.  
> Another thing I’ll add is that part of what makes this story so real to me is that it’s based in my home county. Most of the locations mentioned are places I could drive you to. If there’s enough interest, I’d be willing to go on a little photographic journey to accompany the storyline. Hell, I might do it if only for my own amusement. We’ll see.


	2. Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again - another chapter!  
> Today's episode is fueled by espresso. 
> 
> I know some authors share the music they write to. I've found myself wandering back to [Deep Dark Indie](https://play.spotify.com/user/spotify/playlist/69H6RgTVs1jrv1IuuLe1a5?play=true&utm_source=open.spotify.com&utm_medium=open/) on Spotify. It has some nice, mellow/moody tones which match the general story fairly well. Some specific songs that I enjoyed while writing this chapter, if you're interested, are [Rousseau by Nerina Pallot](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZXmbJgdSbR0) and [Begging for Thread by BANKS](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVB2mXCTbNs).
> 
> One random thing that I'll throw out there: I know Levi may seem rather mild-mannered in comparison to other fics, but one reason why I've written it this way is because the narrative "floats" over/along with Levi's point of view, which varies from that of those who observe him. One example or interpretation from the series that I draw from is **SPOILERS** the scene that takes place after Levi's squad is killed by the female titan, when Eren comments on Levi's unusual talkativeness and he responds by saying that he had always been talkative (or thought himself to be so).  
>  When writing, I have fun by mentally paralleling the narrative with how other people would be observing his actions - the way I think of it is that the narrative has a view beneath the surface, while the other characters in the story only see the top of the theoretical lake. 
> 
> So anyway - I'm done rambling. Enjoy!

      The wind had picked up significantly from the day before, driving in enough clouds to create an overcast sky.  
      In the morning, Levi swam – perhaps not on a daily basis, but enough to keep him in shape and release his endorphins. He had started his little ritual several months ago as a throwback to his days on the high school swim team.  
      He fidgeted on the deck, adjusting his goggles and pulling on a black silicone swim cap to cover his hair. Fortunately, he had managed to miss the morning aquafit class this time around. Their physical therapy sessions mainly consisted of sagging body parts and workout music blasted straight from the 90’s. It was definitely something he could stand to go without.  
      Goggles tight on his face, he broke the surface of the water, collapsing his knees as soon as his feet touched bottom. Fully submerged, he pushed powerfully off the wall, accelerating with several sharp dolphin kicks. He took several strokes before turning his head to suck in air. The water felt…crisp. It was an odd adjective to use, and he knew it, yet the word fit perfectly. At least it would until he piled on more yards, when his body heat felt like it radiated the water around him.  
      His strokes were precise, the swimmer acutely aware of the location and angle of his palms piercing the water. When he started several months ago, he was relieved to find that he hadn’t lost his technique during his aquatic hiatus, but he was desperately out of shape. A distance that he once would have considered to be a warm up now left him winded and sore the morning afterwards.  
      He let thought escape him as he worked his way down the pool. Breathe, stroke, exhale through the turn…  
      Water plumed behind him, showering the deck as he whipped through a tight flip turn. Lungs burning, he pulled two more strokes before allowing himself air.  


      The dark haired swimmer slumped against the edge of the pool roughly an hour later, having burned through all of his energy reserves. His breath came raggedly and his heartrate had only just begun to decelerate despite the fact that he had stopped over a minute ago.  
      He lazily ducked underwater one final time, ripping off his swim cap as he did so. The cold water came as a mild shock to his scalp, dispersing the heat that had built up during his workout. The feeling was close to orgasmic.  
      Levi pulled himself out of the lap pool and wandered over to the large, circular hot tub set in the floor by the large bay windows, avoiding eye contact with the elderly lady who was already soaking in the bubbling water. He wasn’t one for small talk, especially when the other person’s nipples were shamelessly poking at the floral pattern of their swimsuit. God, didn’t they make those with cups for that reason?  
      As he eased through the foam, he turned so that he was sitting sideways on the ledge that wrapped around the outside edge of the hot tub, taking in his surroundings.  
      The lone lifeguard wandered between the pools idly, eyes flickering between them, keeping tabs on the handful of swimmers dispersed around the aquatics facility. Levi couldn’t help but note that he wasn’t too hard on the eyes. His skin was a little bronze given the earliness of the season – he must either have a naturally darker complexion, or he was a patron of the tanning salon in town. Levi’s eyes narrowed slightly. He couldn’t quite tell from this distance, but he looked young - almost too young. There was a fair chance he could still be in high school. Minors weren’t really to his taste.  
      He found his mind wandering to a guy he had met at a local art fair several weeks ago when he was looking for something to put on the walls of his bedroom. The artist had a stall with some of his woodwork on display – most of it furniture with a northwoods-cabin theme to it. He had introduced himself as Jake – a friendly guy with strawberry blonde hair, a scattering of matching scruff, and an affinity for plaid shirts and square-framed glasses. And, if biceps were anything to judge by, he had a nicely toned body.  
      They had gone out for drinks one time, though nothing had happened that night. Levi had his number, and they sporadically texted back and forth. He considered the possibility of inviting him over to his apartment for dinner. If things warmed up the way he wished they would, the bedroom wouldn’t be far, and he had a stockpile of clean sheets for afterwards.  
      He cut off that train of thought immediately. He was _not_ about to get half-mast in a public whirlpool. The dark-haired swimmer hauled himself out of the warm water, bracing himself against the oncoming head rush that left him just a little too dizzy for comfort.  
      He made his way over to the locker rooms, casually eying the lifeguard on his way there. Barely out of high school was a generous estimate. Levi completely missed the small, casual wave directed towards him just as he shouldered open the door with the male stick figure on the label.  


             The day was young yet, and he still had a few hours before he had to be at the bar, so Levi found himself nosing the truck up an overgrown cedar-lined driveway next to a large white house with a red-shingled roof.  
      The house was built on property many people would be jealous of. The spacious backyard had a direct view of the bay that split the peninsula in two, the road it was built on was a relatively quiet dead end, and it was less than a block away from one of the city’s small sand beaches as well as the walkway that extended halfway into the harbor. In decades past, the latter used to be a part of the town’s only railroad bridge, but these days, the trains were long gone and the only traffic consisted of fisherman and pedestrians.  
      Unfortunately, the house itself was showing its age. The cast iron fencing around the front porch was rusting and the paint on the siding was cracked and peeling in more places than it wasn’t. The driveway was badly in need of repaving and the disused garage looked as if it was one stiff breeze away from caving in on itself. He felt a wave of guilt pass over him – even before his grandfather had passed, maintenance of the house had crawled to a standstill. This summer, he would have to make a point of dedicating a few weekends to projects around the house.  
      Levi cut out the engine and made his way over to the back door, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint smile when he noticed the latest garden decoration – chipped china plates sitting half-buried along the back of the flower beds as if they had been wedged there to dry.  
      He didn’t bother to knock. The small set of wind chimes that were probably meant to hang outside instead of on a door handle jangled as he swung it open. He slipped off his shoes, noticing the wet sheen of the kitchen floor and the lingering scent of pine-sol.  
      Rifling through the cabinets, he found a package of green tea and the mugs he recognized as the ones he had bought as a gift last Christmas. Uncharacteristically, he hummed a tune to himself as he filled a chicken-shaped kettle with water and set it on the stove to boil.  
      He made his way up to the front of the house, catching the elderly woman bent over the computer desk by surprise.  
      “Oh! Levi, I didn’t know you were coming!” she exclaimed, her face splitting with a smile that seemed to be warmer than the sun at noon. He returned the grin, reaching out so she could grip his hand with a firmness that wouldn’t be expected of a person her age.  
      “I thought I’d stop by for a bit before I had to go to work.”  
      “Well, I’m glad you do!” She released his hand, directing his attention to the screen in front of her. “Look, Camille sends me an e-mail. You know her.” Levi nodded absentmindedly. He had a hard time keeping track of his many distant relatives in France, but he recognized the name of his great-aunt. His grandmother had immigrated to America in her early twenties, leaving behind many family ties that she still kept in contact with. He had been to her home country once with her when he was thirteen, spending a month between the households of his grandmother’s family.  
      “She sends me these pictures of the gardens she works at. Remember them?”  
      “Of course, they were beautiful,” he responded with utter sincerity. If there was an equal to those gardens in the states, he had yet to hear of it. The garden in France was expansive, taking at least three to four hours to explore fully, with elaborate waterworks and detailed themes. Despite being the generally disinterested teenage boy that he was, he didn’t want to leave, even as the air began to cool and the sun began to merge with the horizon.  
      “She talks of retiring soon. The work is starting to get hard for her.”  
      “Hm. Well, she is getting older, and I know she’s put in quite a few years there.”  
      “Yes, that’s right. She looks forward to it, I think.” She leaned forward in the chair, bracing both palms on the desk for support as she tried to stand.  
      “ _Mamam,_ let me help you.” The older woman waved him off, already mostly on her feet. Once she was upright, she took both his hands in hers, kneading the insides of his palms with callused thumbs, just as she always had done when he came to visit. She exhaled sharply, the corners of her eyes creasing as she smiled.  
      “Levi. _Comment ça va_?”  
      “ _Tres bien_. I put the kettle on for tea.”  
      “ _Dieu te benisse_. Levi,” she began, her steel blue eyes demanding honesty, “Have you eaten yet today?” Her grandson rubbed at the back of his neck, anticipating the oncoming storm.  
      “I just finished swimming, so I haven’t had lunch yet. But don’t trouble yourself.” he added hurriedly.  
      “No breakfast either?” she scolded. Predictably, she was already making her way over to the kitchen. “Levi, you have to take care of yourself. You waste away.” she critiqued, blatantly ignoring or simply not recognizing the fact that her grandson was well toned.  
      “I can make you a ham sandwich with cheese, and I have some homemade tomato soup and veggies left over from last night. Would you like that or-?”  
      “If it’s no bother. I don’t want to interrupt you from anything.”  
      She scoffed, already pulling ingredients from the small fridge. “You don’t interrupt anything. I’m an old lady. All I do is putz around the house.”  
      Levi busied himself with the tea as she prepared, pulling the kettle off the burner and arranging the teabags in the mugs.  
      “Have you needed help with anything?” he asked over his shoulder as he began to pour. If she didn’t need help, the house definitely did.  
      “No, not really. Your uncle Gabriel set up the new washer for me last week. This old house,” she huffed, plugging in a little electric grill. “-it’s just so much cleaning to keep up with. I don’t need all these rooms, and everything is always getting dusty.”  


      Levi was wise enough to not offer his assistance in this area. The last time he had tried to surprise her by helping with the cleaning, he had ended up fearing for his life. Despite the fact that he was much more attentive to the work than most, his dear _Mamam_ had threatened to choke him with a dishrag and immediately went about re-cleaning everything he had touched to her impossible standards.  
      And his employees thought _he_ was bad.  
      “ _Mamam_ , you take honey in your tea, right?”  
      “Yes, there should be some in the drawer next to the oven.” As she spoke, his hand was already on the handle, memory serving him better than direction.  
      “Set the table, could you?” she asked. “The sandwiches are almost done.”  
      It only took a couple moments to lay out the plates and spoons on the little table in the kitchen, and it wasn’t much longer until the home cooked lunch was ready to eat. Levi’s mouth was watering, completely out of his control. You see, _Mamam’s_ sandwiches weren’t some wonderbread affair. She sliced each piece of bread from one of those loafs with the crispy glazed crust, and each piece of ham from a larger slab that was always bought fresh from the local meat market. The sandwich was then stacked with a healthy amount of cheese and was brushed with butter before being grilled, and was finished off with a mountain of lettuce and tomatoes. Simply put, they were delicious. Nobody turned down a sandwich from his grandmother, and you would have to be suicidal to leave anything larger than a crust on the plate.  
      Levi didn’t even leave that. The meal finished, the two of them chatted idly over their tea. She talked about her quilting group and the upcoming showing at the local library – he told her some stories about his employees that made her laugh. In the living room, she showed him how she had re-arranged the photographs on the wall, and the pattern for a future project that was going to a fundraiser for a local organization. They groused about politics, and the hotel that was going to be built on the waterfront between the bridges.  
      Time went by too fast, and it wasn’t much longer before she was on the porch to see him off and he was climbing in the truck laden with old cottage cheese containers filled with sugar cookies and rice pudding, “for the little brats you work with”.  


        It was another uneventful weeknight at the bar. The paper shipment had been delivered, filling their supply closet to overflowing. Sasha had invented some concoction out of Mountain Dew, Red Bull, and bitters that became instantly popular with the rest of his staff. To Levi’s amused horror, some of the regulars offered to sample it, one of them managing to down two full glasses before he left. Stephanie had the idea of dropping a shot glass of Jägermeister in the brew, and Levi had to glare pointedly in their direction to discourage them from experimenting then and there.  
      The closing rituals were the same every night. He double checked the cleaning, often having to drag the original cleaner back to re-do their work. He counted down the cash drawers and balanced the books to the cent before filing away paperwork and setting the remainder aside on his desk for later.  
      The doors were locked, the truck growled to life, and the bar sat empty once again.  


      The smell of gasoline filled the air as the pump whirred, snaking fuel through the hose into the waiting tank. The driver has wandered out from beneath the canopy, lit cigarette dangling from his fingers, neck craned back and face tilted to look at the stars.  
      Levi knew he probably looked a bit ridiculous to anybody that might happen to drive by – not that there was much chance of that at this time of night. Not in this sleepy county, and especially not on this stretch of highway surrounded by fields interrupted by the single gas station. He didn’t care, regardless.  
      He liked seeing the stars like this, before the summer humidity hazed the air. On nights like these, the pinpricks of light were sharp and bright, like points of blades suspended in the emptiness of the galaxy.  
      He only knew one constellation and found it almost immediately – the big dipper, with the northern star glittering at the end of its handle. Orion’s belt was there too … somewhere, at least, but he would likely confuse it with any other short trail of stars.  
      The pump chunked as it cut out, but he remained where he stood, staring for a few more moments. Soon enough, he’d be back under a roof again, with nothing to see above him excepting the ceiling. He’d enjoy this while it lasted.  


      The key turned in the lock, the lights came on, the cat tried to trip him. Everything was the same as it always had been.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for your reference:  
> "Mamam" - an odd informal way of saying mother  
> "Comment ça va?" - How are you?  
> "Tres bien" - Very good/well  
> "Dieu te benisse" - God bless you
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the read. Let me know if you run across any glaringly embarrassing errors so I can adjust accordingly, and feel free to leave a comment or a kudo if you liked it! (remember - if you don't, then I'll assume you hated it!)


	3. The Dogwalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I was going to try to update once a week, but then shit happened, I lost my notebook, and I'm in the process of juggling graduation, job offers, and moving. So bear with me. Writing is a release for me, so I have plenty of content - it just all needs to be typed out, edited, and formatted, and that takes time (and concentration, which I lack when it comes to those things).  
> So yes.
> 
> ALSO. I keep forgetting to mention that I have a [tumbr. Here.](http://vagabonddiesel.tumblr.com/) It's mostly drivel that I post to entertain myself, but there's a marginal chance you might find it amusing. Feel free to hit me up. I like talking to people. 
> 
> Here's some background listening if you're interested - some easier, mellow mopey stuff this week;  
> [Lies - Trifonic](https://open.spotify.com/track/5PZN2lQL8IusNEc8L5BeeW)  
> [Dark Do Whop - MS MR](https://open.spotify.com/track/6G3PTnAbB18pWElixeBDdQ)

      He would be lying if he said that the rustling of the person in bed with him didn’t wake him. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t play at being asleep as they gathered their clothes and slipped out of the bedroom. And he would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a twinge of disappointment when the slam of a closing door shuddered through the walls of the small apartment.  
      Levi dropped his façade when it became obvious that the man he had shared his bed with last night wouldn’t be there when the sun rose. He shifted closer towards the center of the mattress where he normally rested, happening to come across a spot of pooled body heat from the absent sleeper that hadn’t had time to dissipate. He chose to ignore this fact and nuzzled deeper into his own pillow. The cat joined him moments later, snaking her body through the gap of the door that had been left ajar. She wandered around the folds of the comforter before choosing to sleep next to his face, curled in the crook of his neck.  
      He drifted back to sleep with the vibration of her purring and the scent of cat around him.

      He slept in far later than he normally allowed. By the time he had disentangled himself from his sheets, the numbers on the clock had already eased past the double digits. It was a tired and groggy man that stumbled into the shower that morning.  
Levi found himself back at the boat launch. His morning had been less than ideal; there was cat vomit on the carpeting and he had gotten soap in his eye during his shower. He had intended to have a nice, relaxing morning indoors, but the walls seemed to confine him rather than comfort him, and no amount of sitting could ease his restlessness.  
      The weather had adjusted to match his mood. A chilling wind whipped forward cloudy jade waves that seethed and tore themselves apart on the shore beneath an overcast sky. The taste of disappointment had not yet left him after last night’s departure, and he was having a difficult time understanding why. He was normally far more collected – failing that, a healthy dose of rationality could be counted on to bring his moods and emotions to heel.  
Until today, apparently.  
      He knew that last night was no emotional affair – there was no disillusionment regarding that fact. It wasn’t that he was particularly attached to the man with the strawberry blonde hair – frankly, some of his mannerisms were downright irritating. No, this restless, uncomfortable feeling lingering in the back of his mind was familiar. He knew what it was to be lonely.  
      Moods like this bit at him from time to time, and he could recognize the symptoms when they appeared. After all, everybody gets lonely at one point. It becomes an issue that can’t be helped when you come home to a quiet room and an empty bed every night. When the friends you had in high school are not much more than fading memories and the people you knew in college scattered to the four winds in pursuit of their careers.  
      It is loneliness, not love that drives people to cling to each other so tightly despite all opposition. It is fear, not affection that pushes them to drive upstream with the tenacity of salmon in spring. They fight so hard because the cost of their loss is abandonment.  
      The wind picked up, carrying the clean, raw scent of the lake, and the waves assaulted the shore with renewed frenzy in response. It blew dark, silky locks of Levi’s hair in his face and he absentmindedly lifted a hand to brush them away, shivering despite the heavy jacket he wore. It was shaping up to be another long, cold spring – a fact that was rather unavoidable given the fact that the rocky peninsula was surrounded by a lake full of water still frigid with melted ice and snow. He drew his knees up to his chest, acutely aware of the fact that this position combined with his relatively short stature would make him look rather childish to anybody who might happen to see him. He made an effort to silence the prideful nagging that urged him to uncurl and look as dignified as possible despite the fact that the boat launch was clearly abandoned, eventually returning to his musings.  
      Loneliness. Long ago, he had learned to tame this particular beast, accepting solitude as an integral part of his lifestyle. Even so, that didn’t stop it from wandering by from time to time, sniffing around his feet like a stray dog.  
      Like the one that was approaching his truck now. He could hear the clicking of its nails and the chime of the tags on its collar as it made its way over to him, and casually adjusted into a normal sitting position before it came into view, expecting a leash and attached person to follow. Unexpectedly, the beagle that begun to molest the soles of his shoes with its nose was alone. It lifted a muzzle that was bleached white with age and blinked blearily at the man on the tailgate, tail swinging furiously.  
      “ _Coucou_.” He bent down to get a closer look at the tags on its collar and the dog fidgeted on its front paws with happiness. Levi held his breath to avoid inhaling the dogs, having caught a whiff of it earlier as he fumbled with the collar, trying to find the tag with the address. Before he could get a good look, the beagle was pulling away in response to a voice carrying down the road. The dog took a few bowlegged steps up the boat launch before apparently changing its mind, sitting down heavily on the cracked asphalt instead.  
      “Buster! Hey!” the approaching man spat indignantly, storming up to the dog with leash in hand. He seemed younger, perhaps in his early twenties or even late teens, looking the part with brown hair that almost managed to come down to chin level, hooded sweatshirt, abused khaki shorts, and open-toed sandals. There was something in this area that compelled the younger men to dress as if it were fifty degrees instead of thirty for reasons that were absolutely beyond the layer bound older man on the truck.  
      The younger man, having just stepped in view, seemed to be caught off-guard when he noticed the dark-haired man perched on the tailgate, obviously not expecting anybody to be there.  
      “Ah, that’s why he wouldn’t come!” Levi silently doubted that he was the only reason for the beagle’s disobedience. Dogs that old just didn’t give a damn anymore.  
      “Sorry, I hope he wasn’t bothering you. He’s normally pretty good off-leash,” the kid continued, bending over to clip the lead to the hoop sewn into the collar. His shaggy bangs had fallen forward, hiding his face from view and tangling themselves in the breeze.  
      “Don’t worry about it.” Levi murmured in response, silently anticipating the moment when he would have the area to himself once more. To his disappointment, the stranger rambled on obliviously.  
      “There normally isn’t anyone else out here, I’m surprised that more people don’t know about this place.” Dog secured, he straightened up, fighting with his hair and revealing eyes the shade of two sunlit lakes.  
      Levi hummed a flat note colored with disinterest. “Hopefully it stays that way. I can’t stand a crowd.”  
His subtle point went completely over the kid’s head. “Yeah, I hope so too. There’s always too many tourists at the decent places. Like Cave Point, or Whitefish Dunes. Always packed.”  
      The man on the tailgate raised an eyebrow. The dog walker was cheerily looking out over the shore, neither him nor the dog showing any sign of moving anytime soon. Levi’s patience for social situations was beginning to reach levels that were in the negative, and he was almost relieved to see the lateness of the afternoon when he checked the time on his phone.  
      “And it’s worse now that they’ve made a point of paving all those new roads and parking lots in the area,” the young man continued, despite the one-sidedness of the conversation.  
      “Hm,” Levi snorted with thinly veiled irritation, sliding off the tailgate and dropping the last few inches as gracefully as he could, given his height. The tailgate made a satisfyingly loud noise as it slammed shut. Surfer hair looked over with surprise at the interruption.  
      “Oh- see you later then,” he trailed off as the engine roared to life, his small wave going unnoticed as the black truck lurched away from the boat launch, leaving the smell of carburation in its wake. 

      Levi was met with the incoherent undertones of multiple conversations as he stepped into the restaurant. The weekend was here, and with it, plenty of customers looking for a place to eat and relax. The back was a hive of activity as his staff scrambled to meet the demands of an early dinner rush. Farlan, his assistant manager, was handling things well, directing Sasha and their weekend server, Armin, as he poured drinks from behind the bar. Stephanie was a fury in the back kitchen, several orders steaming on the grill as heavy metal music played quietly from a set of speakers on the counter.  
      Levi wasted no time in changing and stepped behind the bar alongside Farlan to meet the demands of the people piling up on the high stools around it. The crowd continued to build steadily through the evening. By the time the scheduled band had arrived, the servers were having a difficult time pushing their way through the crowd of standing people and you could practically taste the scent of beer and liquor in the air. Levi had closed the kitchen early despite the inevitable complaints and relocated Stephanie to the bar, which had exhausted its seating long ago.  
      At close, the staff had to resort to cutting off the music and raising the lights from their usual dimness to almost blinding intensity. Almost an hour after that, Farlan had lost whatever patience he had left and was all but carrying drunken patrons out the door so they could close properly. Their mood took a one-eighty when Levi dispersed the tips and sent them home for the night. He ended up staying far later than he usually did, taking the brunt of the nightly cleaning on his own shoulders. After all, he didn’t mind the work, and his staff could use the break. It wasn’t as if he had much to come home to anyway.  
      He stacked the chairs on the tables, feeling the soreness in his back settling in as he stretched. He had never quite managed to work the kinks out of his psyche, thanks to the brat at the boat launch, and the routine of scrubbing down the floors and tables was almost therapeutic. He plugged his phone into the sound system and turned on some easy listening music to enhance the effect.  
      Levi felt his mood lifting as the sticky stains were mopped off the floor and the grime was wiped away from the inside corners of the bar. He found himself going above and beyond the normal nightly cleaning, dusting every flat surface and dousing every pane of glass with streak-free cleaner. By the time the sun had begun to creep over the horizon, the restaurant was indistinguishable from the absolute wreck that had been left behind after the crowds of the night and was cleaner than it had been in months.  
      He drove home with satisfaction in his gut despite the exhaustion in his bones and fact that he had to squint into the sunrise the entire way back.

The rest of the weekend flashed by in a haze. Levi pushed longer hours than usual, coming in at opening and not leaving until close, working for over twelve hours at a time more often than not. It kept him blissfully occupied at the cost of the majority of his free time. After a similarly long and relatively quiet Monday, he relinquished control of the restaurant for the following day to catch up on sleep and errands.  
      He ended up bypassing his normal swimming routine in favor of sleeping in, deciding to spend the morning curled on the couch with a cup of tea in his hands and a cat curled in the crook of his knees while the news flickered on the television screen in front of him. When the reporters began to babble about a new cooking style, he muted the sound with the push of a button and turned his attention to a rather dry book on philosophy that he had been trying and failing to force himself through for the past few weeks. This managed to keep him occupied for the next few hours, at least until his legs began to cramp and he shooed the cat away so that he could get up and make a chicken sandwich for lunch.  
      Spending the entire morning indoors had begun to get a bit stifling, especially while the sun was shining outside in invitation, so Levi shrugged on his jacket and made the trip out to the boat launch armed with the philosophy book as well as lighter fiction novel in case he wanted a break from the thick phraseology.  
      He was disappointed to see that he’d be sharing his haunt with a stranger when he saw the roughed up forest green S10 parked close to the water. He briefly considered following the curve of the road past the launch to take search out another one of his more obscure haunts, but ended up pulling up several feet behind and to the side of the smaller truck after a brief mental conflict. With any amount of luck, chances were they’d be leaving soon anyway.  
      He flicked the shift lever in neutral and set the parking brake before fishing a cigarette out of the pack on the bench seat, pausing to light it before reaching for the door handle, reading material in hand. Today, he sat on the hood, feet braced on the bumper to keep him from completely slipping off the mild slope of the hood. The tailgate probably would have been a bit more comfortable, but he wanted to face the water and didn’t want to be bothered with the chore of swinging the truck around the tight space to back in, especially not with the other vehicle to maneuver around.  
      He couldn’t help but notice that said vehicle was happily empty, increasing the probability that Levi would be able to read in peace without anyone casting sidelong glances at the short man reading a book while perched on the hood like the little swan ornaments on older semis. The dark haired man shifted his weight to get in a more comfortable position and flipped open the book on philosophy, fumbling with the pages for a moment before finding the place where he left off.  
      He only managed to scan a few lines before a sudden movement in his peripherals caught his attention. The lanky brown haired kid from before, complete with dog and leash, was getting to his feet from where he had been sitting on the ground near the shore. Levi was surprised he hadn’t noticed him initially, despite the fact that the rock he had been leaning against and the tall, dried dune grasses around it had provided fairly good cover. The younger man fussed with his clothes for a moment, brushing sand and bits of dead plant parts from his jeans and pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. He walked past the black truck without a word or even a glance in its direction, urging the beagle into the passenger seat of the little green truck with a manner that almost bordered on brusque.  
      Levi’s prediction was accurate, in the end. Moments later, the S10 grudgingly choked to life and pulled away with the trademark howl of a rusted out exhaust. The abruptness of the departure unsettled Levi, and he didn’t fail to see the irony behind it all. Admittedly, he had been rather terse with the kid a few days ago, but he wasn’t entirely sure if that had warranted the minor drama that had just unfolded in front of him.  
He ended up dropping the matter and lost himself in the warmth of the sun and the clean breeze dancing over the lake and up the shore, wrapped in the story trapped within the pages of the novel.  
      The next time he came out to the boat launch, it was abandoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Coucou" - Extremely informal greeting


	4. Were you crying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early release - bit of a short one, but I have a bunch more coming and this was the best way to do a chapter break. There are about fifteen other important things I should have spent my evening on, but whatever. I had fun doing this.
> 
> Have some sounds.  
> You can't drive fast while listening to Rob Zombie without feeling like a badass.  
> Usual mellow stuff includes [Phone Call](https://open.spotify.com/track/7LYeytL8R2fuqnsW1s0k86) and [Fireshrine](https://open.spotify.com/track/5KeyVNymqfqac1wLDseK8v). 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, read horrible things I probably shouldn't share publicly [here](http://vagabonddiesel.tumblr.com/).

      The following week was uneventful. Business at the restaurant was steady, bringing a few more rushed nights that left his staff exhausted and the tip jar filled to the brim with rumpled bills.  
      The first day of spring came and left, but the cold stuck around predictably. As much as he disliked it, it wasn’t a force that could keep Levi indoors for long. On his next day off, he drove out to several of the more scenic areas of the county before their parking lots flooded with summer visitors. Warmer weather brought crowds and luxurious cars that insisted on driving ten miles under the speed limit on the county’s single-lane highways.  
      The black truck was not a member of that group. It roared around the curve at fifty miles an hour, its driver bringing it to the edge right before the tires would break free from the pavement. Too far and it would fly into an uncorrectable skid that would leave the truck suspended on the hooks of a tow truck.  
      A pair of sunglasses skittered across the dash and fell to the floor as Levi drove his foot into the clutch and grabbed the next gear out of the turn, immediately laying hard into the accelerator. All eight cylinders roared gutturally in response as the truck rapidly picked up speed again. As the road began to dip and curve ahead, he dropped a gear without touching the brakes, letting the engine pull the speed down with a howl of protest as the RPMs spiked.  
      His method of driving probably put more stress on the truck than it deserved, but he would be damned if he owned a stick shift and didn’t have fun with it every once in a while. The feeling of absolute control was almost intoxicating. Driving with a manual transmission gave the owner the ability to snub out the engine in inconvenient places, like busy intersections, but it also gave skilled operators the exhilarating power trip that Levi was currently experiencing.  
      He didn’t care that the older truck would probably curse his name if it had a voice to speak with, didn’t care if he looked like some punk kid just out of class for the day to anybody looking over the deserted country road, because in that moment, between the lurch of the shifts, in the pull of the curves, and the wind whipping through the open windows of the cab, it almost felt as if he were flying instead of driving. 

      He pulled up to the boat launch in good humor, the air around the truck flavored with the scent of burning clutch and carbureted exhaust.  
      Surprisingly enough, the green S10 was there as well, tucked close along the cedars that bordered one side of the launch. He still felt a bit guilty, given how things had gone last time he had company here.  
      Sparking a cigarette, he swung out of the truck and searched for any sign of the young man with the shaggy hair and the beagle. It only took a moment to find him, sitting Indian-style with his back propped up against a large rock. He found himself wandering in the kid’s general direction, though he couldn’t say why. It wasn’t as if he had any good plan of action, or even a general idea of what to say in this situation.  
      Levi grimaced as the wind gusted, bringing the aftertaste of what smelled like skunk spray with it. He had been nailed by one when he was a kid – it was a smell he wouldn’t forget. He took a long drag off his burning cigarette, exhaling through his nose to overwhelm his senses with the aromatic tobacco instead.  
      He was standing fairly close to the younger man at this point, making conversation unavoidable without coming off as socially inept. It didn’t take long for his presence to be noticed, but the kid was hesitant to make eye contact or conversation. Levi fumbled mentally, grasping onto the obvious while heartily regretting the entire venture.  
      “No dog today?” The dulled look of worry the kid shot at him was less than reassuring.  
      “N-no, not today,” he echoed softly. Levi didn’t fail to notice the flush of pink gathering in the corners of his eyes – had he been crying?  
      “Is he alright?” he inquired as gently as he could. The younger man seemed to catch himself staring at the dark haired man and glanced away to watch the lake with matching eyes instead.  
      “I guess so. Yeah,” he mumbled, although his expression said otherwise. Levi could sympathize with him. Though he’d never openly admit it, he’d be next to heartbroken if something happened to the little cat who shared his apartment with him.  
      “I’m sorry,” he offered.  
      A look of bewilderment spread across the younger man’s face as he broke away from his examination of the shoreline.  
      “What?”  
      “I’m sorry. For your dog.” Levi ground.  
      “Huh? The dog’s fine. And he’s not mine.”  
      Now it was Levi’s turn to be confused. He mentally scrambled to re-analyze the situation, trying to find the point where he had gotten things so horribly confused. Unfortunately for him, the kid seemed to find it faster.  
      “Oh. OH,” he exclaimed before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. It only got worse when he was able to stop himself, only to catch sight of the utterly confused expression on the shorter man’s face.  
      “Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Just,” at this, he broke off giggling, “-just forget about the dog. The dog’s fine.”  
      Levi regained his composure sometime while the guy with the shaggy hair was trying to regain the ability to breathe, one eyebrow raised so high, it was likely to take flight if it gained any more elevation. He had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he was currently the butt of a joke he wasn’t privy to, and from the way the kid was beginning to collapse in on himself, again, it wasn’t likely that he was about to find out.  
      He turned on his heel with a “tch” of exhaled air and began to make his way back toward the truck, where he should have stayed in the first place. When he felt the pull on his arm, he reflexively spun around, grabbing his assailant by the wrist and twisting it at an angle designed to incapacitate. He couldn’t help but take some satisfaction from the expression of suppressed pain and shock on the younger man’s face.  
      “Woah, dude. Woah.” He began slowly, waving his free hand disarmingly. Levi’s little maneuver had dragged him almost uncomfortably close, accentuating the height difference between the two. It probably would have made a more comical scene if it wasn’t for the frigid aura the shorter man was emitting.  
      “Look, I’m sorry man,” he continued, trying and failing to pull his wrist away. “To be honest, I’m totally stoned right now, but I wasn’t trying to piss you off. So…” he trailed off lamely, meeting Levi’s steely gaze hopefully.  
      Levi released his wrist almost instantaneously, holding his own hand at an awkward distance away from his own body as if the kid had somehow managed to leak drugs on it during the period of contact.  
      “Jesus fuck,” he spat, continuing towards his truck. “I can’t- fuck, I don’t have time for this shit.” The door was already within arm’s length, so he reached for the handle with his “clean” hand and pulled it open.  
      “Woahwoahwoah hey!” the younger man sputtered, making another move towards the shorter man before thinking better of it. He gestured wildly to emphasize his point instead.  
      “Look, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t want to like, make you leave again or anything. I’ll just go, alright?”  
      His entreaty managed to grab Levi’s attention as he was reaching for the ignition. He looked down (ha!) at the kid skeptically, sorely tempted to take him up on the offer. Instead, he sighed, cramming the remains of his long-dead cigarette into the truck’s ashtray.  
      “Should you even be driving right now?”  
      The younger man scrubbed the back of his head with his fingers, glancing at the ground. “Ah, I might wait a few minutes. Just to be safe. Because, police.”  
      Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, inaudibly echoing “because, police”. Elegant.  
      “I’m sorry,” shaggy hair continued. “I really don’t do this that often.”  
      The man in the truck sat back heavily, lighting another cigarette. “Jesus. I don’t care. I really don’t care. Just go back and sit by your rock or something and leave me the fuck alone.”  
      He didn’t leave, but lingered by the open window of the truck, staring shamelessly into the cab. Levi managed to tolerate this for about half a minute before snapping.  
      “Do you need something?”  
      “Uh, no. You just look kind of familiar. I was trying to figure out where I’ve seen you from. Besides here,” he added stupidly. “My name’s Eren, by the way.”  
      “Charmed,” he retorted dryly.  
      “So am I supposed to call you that or something?” Levi couldn’t tell if he was trying to be a smartass, or if he was really that mentally incapable.  
      “Kid,” he bit, “You have ten seconds to walk away from this truck before I run you over with it.”  
      It was an empty threat, but it seemed to work well enough. Curiosity unsated, Eren turned and wandered back towards his rock, and Levi watched with the security of knowing that he wouldn’t get caught doing so.  
      One obvious thing he had noticed, even when they had run into each other for the first time, was that Eren was tall. Levi himself only punched in at five foot three, and the kid had to have stood almost a foot above him. The second was his hair. It seemed to suit his personality, shaggy, almost long enough to gather into a ponytail of sorts. In the areas where the sunlight hit, it almost seemed auburn instead of chocolate brown. He was dressed plainly in an abused black and red plaid print jacket that looked as if it may have been around since the nineties, loose jeans, and khaki work boots that were flecked with spots of white and darker stained patches.  
      Levi briefly reflected on the fact that if the kid aged twenty years and grew out a beard, he’d fit in perfectly with the population of larger cities that pushed their belongings around in shopping carts.  
      The two of them remained in their respective places for roughly an hour, Eren sitting in the dirt by his rock, and Levi with his legs stretched over the bench seat while he got reacquainted with his reading. He ended up leaving first to make his normal shift at the bar on time. Alerted by the rumble of the engine starting, the kid with the shaggy hair twisted in his seat to wave. Levi returned it halfheartedly as he backed away, more of a flash of the palm than anything, but it didn’t stop the small smile from spreading on the young man’s face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eren's rock? Get it? Get it? -laughs manically-


	5. The Steel Bridge Cafe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I know I released this a bit later than I was planning on. I've been busy dealing with a ton of fallout from an unpopular life decision I made this past weekend - I gave it a lot of thought, and it had to be done, but I wasn't expecting for it to blow up nearly as large as it did. Ah well. Moving forward. 
> 
> For your listening pleasure: [Friend (Lover) by Yore](https://open.spotify.com/track/5ew8DU0Hqou3ppZdlggYuf).
> 
> And, as usual, feel free to bother me on my [tumblr](http://vagabonddiesel.tumblr.com/).

     The alarm on his phone chimed melodiously, pulling the man on the bed out of unremembered dreams. He swiped the reminder away and pulled himself into a relatively upright position, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  
     Levi stretched dramatically. It had been awhile since he had slept as well as he had the past night. Despite the earliness of the morning and the fact that he had stayed far too late at work the night before, he felt a healthy vitality resonating through his body.  
     “Carpe diem” flashed through his thoughts, the statement seeming to fit the day perfectly.  


     At the pool, he cut through the water like a predator, reveling in the glide of the water moving past his body and the pleasant fatigue building in his muscles. He felt guilty for his recent absence from the aquatics facility, making up for it by piling on an extra five hundred yards to his usual workout, forcing through the burning of his lungs and the strain on his limbs.  
     The hot tub was empty, so he lingered in the chlorinated foam for longer than he usually allowed, letting his mind freewheel wordlessly through its post-exercise endorphin rush.  


     “Wow, did you get laid or something?” Stephanie blurted shamelessly as she began to load a tray of dishes and glassware into the commercial dishwasher. Levi wiped whatever pleased expression that had been showing off his face and shot a skewering look at the bandanna’d chef, choosing to ignore the phlegmy noise of Sasha choking on something with laughter.  
     “You can leave for the night,” he responded icily, taking satisfaction in the look of mortification on her face.  
     “Sorry!” she exclaimed immediately. “That was too far. It’s just nice to see you in a good mood, is all.”  
     He “tch’d” softly, unable to muster any real irritation behind it, and took a long drink from his cooling tea.  
     “Go clean something, both of you. I don’t pay you for kitchen gossip hour.”  
     They both scuttled away as Jean, one of their weekend servers, stormed through the swinging doors to slam an order slip on the counter.  
     “Do I have to cook the food too, or are you going to do something about this?”  
     “Lighten the fuck up, Jean, Jesus,” Stephanie grumbled, crumpling the paper in her hand as she began pulling meat out of the coolers.  
     Levi gave the blonde waiter a reproachful look that seemed to go unnoticed. Jean had never worked particularly well with others, but recently his attitude had been worse than usual. He would have to drag him in the office for a talk if this kept up. The shorter man turned to return to the relative seclusion of his desk and almost ran into Farlan, who had been leaning in the doorway of the back office. The taller blonde turned to follow him to the back, speaking up when they were out of earshot from the rest of the staff.  
     “It is good to see a bit of your old fire, you know.” Levi acknowledged his old friend with a glance, settling back in the office chair to prop his feet on the desk.      “What are you still doing around here? I thought Saturdays were date night with Isabel.”  
     “They are, but we’re staying in this time. We were planning on ordering takeout from that new Chinese place on the other side of the bay.” Levi hummed something that sounded vaguely encouraging.  
     “Let me know how that is. I’ve never been there.”  
     “Oh, of course. I’ve heard good things about it. After all, it’s been so long since we’ve had anything except that disgusting buffet in town.”      The shorter man couldn’t repress a shudder at its mention. The last time he had been there, he had discovered dried noodles plastered to the underside of his table, and the food in the warmers was lukewarm at best and crusted at the edges.  
     “You know,” the taller man continued, “It’s been awhile since we all got together for dinner. I miss it.”  
     “I do too.” Levi admitted. “Not that it can really be helped.” Seeing as Farlan was his assistant manager, one of them was always at the restaurant, creating the schedule conflict that rendered the trio’s usual dinners obsolete.  
     “You know what we should do? Breakfast. I normally don’t have to be here until a few minutes before ten anyway.”  
     Levi nodded, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before – it was a pretty obvious solution. It would cut into his morning swim, but then again, he had missed so many days at this point that one more wouldn’t matter.  
     “Do you want to try it tomorrow?” he questioned.  
     “Why not?” Farlan proclaimed. One side of Levi’s mouth was already twisting upwards with the hint of a smile. He normally hated scheduling things so last minute, but he was looking forward to this.  
     “Tomorrow it is.” 

     He was already starting on a second cup of coffee by the time the duo slid into the booth across from him.  
     “You’re late.”  
     The young woman with razor-cut hair dyed raspberry red huffed as she adjusted the decorative scarf around her next, exposing the screen printed birds flying through the folds.  
     “Who says you aren’t just ridiculously early? It’s only ten after.” Levi simply raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his coffee, spared from responding when the waitress swung by to drop off menus and take their drink orders.  
     “Well, I know what I want already,” the blonde man began.  
     “I’m getting Belgian waffles.” Isabel chimed almost immediately.  
     “And I’ve memorized the entire damn menu while I was waiting for you two, so we might as well order right away.”  
     The waitress nodded expressionlessly, whipping out a pad to scrawl out notes as they voiced their orders. Isabel chuckled merrily as the short blonde practically marched around the corner.  
     “Levi, she’s almost as angry as you are! It’s a match made in heaven!”  
     The dark-haired man ripped open a sugar packer, adding half of it to his freshly topped-off mug. “I’m not angry, I’m just not a grinning fuckwit like you.”  
     “Harsh,” she cried, slumping dramatically and clutching her chest. “Not that it matters anyway. Speaking of which, find any cute guys recently?”  
     Levi couldn’t discern if she was asking for his sake or hers. He couldn’t stop the image of the strawberry blonde with the plaid shirts from flashing to mind, but he could dismiss it as soon as it occurred to him. He hadn’t heard from him since that night, and Levi was never one to be the first to grasp for contact the morning after. Mornings lengthened to weeks, and as far as he was concerned, the entire affair was dead to him. Regardless, it was hardly anything he felt like sharing.      “No, not really,” he ended up responding, probably taking a few seconds too long to say so.  
     “Not really?” Isabel mimicked devilishly. Levi cursed his tendency to speak too ambiguously at times.  
     “Not at all,” he corrected firmly, glaring her down from across the table.  
     “Well, that’s not very interesting,” she sighed, leaning forward as the angry blonde waitress returned with two glasses of water for the couple and a bit of extra coffee for Levi’s cup.  
     “My life isn’t interesting.” Levi deadpanned. “That way, everything matches.”  
     “Come on, Levi,” Farlan replied easily. “You can’t tell me that you just sit alone in your apartment whenever you’re not working.”  
     “Well,” Levi drawled, attempting to think of something that would get them off his back. “I’ve been swimming in the mornings. I get books from the library, and most of them turn out to be horrible. I go out by the lake from time to time, and sometimes I visit my grandmother. That’s about it. As I said, my life isn’t interesting.”  
     “God, you’re turning into such an old man,” Isabel chortled. “Don’t you get lonely, with your life of seclusion and all that?”  
     “No,” he lied, sipping at his coffee.  
     “Ah, whatever. The tattoo parlor has been doing great! Last week, I started working on the design for part of a sleeve. Big oriental dragon. I think you’d like it, you should stop in sometime to see the line work.”  
     “Sounds like an expensive piece. Full color?”  
     “Oh yes,” she agreed, “It’s a moneymaker. You know, you should let me design a tattoo for you.”  
     Levi hesitated. Maybe the comment about being old had gotten to him more than he realized, because he realized he was partial to the idea.  
     “Alright.”  
     “What? Really?” she exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table with a force that caused a few other diners to look their way.  
     “Don’t shit yourself,” he growled. “I’ll think about it.”  
     Farlan laughed. “Now that’s going to be all she’ll talk about. You didn’t get half as wound up when you started designing mine,” he whined.  
     “I can ink you any day,” she responded, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Never thought straight-laced Levi would go rogue. So what next? Piercings? You’d look good with gauges,” she commented, fingering her own.  
     “No.” he said firmly, face settling into a look of irritation.  
     “Well, start thinking of ideas, anyway,” Isabel said breezily, combing through her wild hair with a pen that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “It’s going to be oriental, because that’s my strongest style and I think it suits you.”  
     “And if I don’t like that style?” he retorted, purely for the sake of argument. Truth be told, he had seen Isabel’s work and admired the detail and grace in her pieces, though he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting that, at least not at the moment. Goading her was a temptation too strong to resist.  
     “Well, then you’re fucked. Go get a staph infection from some other place, for all I care,” she snarked.  
     “What customer service. I would write a half-star review on Yelp, but I don’t think they go that low.” Levi was smiling now – he couldn’t help it. He had missed conversations like these.  
     “As if you could talk,” Isabel huffed, writing in the air with her pen. “Bartender scowled the entire time and insulted choice of drinks.”  
     “That was not how it read, and it was years ago.” The woman with raspberry hair guffawed and settled further into her seat, knowing that she had won this round. “Farlan, you’ve been quiet,” she commented instead, elbowing him in the side.  
     “It’s more interesting to listen to the two of you, believe me.”  
     Further banter was cut off as their food arrived. Isabel smothered her stack of waffles with syrup that matched her hair, and Farlan did the same with ketchup and his hash brown skillet. Levi winced at the sight, carefully arranging his over-easy eggs atop his toast before cutting it into manageable pieces with knife and fork.  
     “You both are disgusting.”  
     “And you’re bland.” Isabel said with mocking politeness. A few tables over, the waitress snorted inelegantly as she gathered empty plates and glasses.  
     “So, Farlan,” Levi began, changing the subject. “How’s the web design coming along?”  
     “About the same as always. I don’t do too much, mostly local work. It would get to be too much with the restaurant otherwise.”  
     The shorter man nodded in agreement, trying to keep the egg yolk from dripping on the table as he speared a piece. Farlan was good at what he did – he designed the site for the bar and several other popular places around the county. He and Isabel were a good match – they both had that artistic mindset that Levi lacked, although if asked, they would disagree with the latter statement. He had painted in his college years, but every stroke of his brushes disappointed him and every canvas he started on remained unfinished and abandoned in the recesses of storage. The frustration of it had gotten to him in the end, and it had been at least a year since he had picked up his pencils or paints, despite their pressuring.  
     Farlan interrupted his musing.  
     “I don’t see why we shouldn’t do this more often. It’s been ages since we talked like this.”  
     “Yeah, I’ve missed you, bro!” Isabel agreed, her usual term of endearment provoking a wince from its subject, but nothing more. He had long ago realized that no amount of glaring or threatening could convince her to remove it from her vocabulary. At this point, she probably said it for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of his reaction.  
     “I have too,” he replied honestly, stuffing his irritation in a corner of his mind. “You both mean a lot to me.”  
     His friends knew better than to make a large affair over the uncharacteristic admission. The raspberry-dyed tattoo artist nodded, smiling warmly as she casually picked at her waffles.  
     “You do too, Levi.”  
     “You know we’ll always be here for you,” Farlan added.  
     The three of them pushed food around their plates in a comfortable silence for the next several minutes, the reverie broken when Isabel flagged down the waitress to get a carry-out box for the remainder of Farlan’s hash browns. Levi had to fight with them over the check, ultimately storming up to the register with his card when Isabel kept yanking it out of the little booklet to replace it with her own.  
     The minutes dragged by as they talked out other inconsequential things, none of them willing to make the move that would break up their gathering. The blonde man thumbed at the touchscreen of his phone, noting the time.  
     “Shit. Might be opening a few minutes late today.”  
     “Well, I’m sure your boss would be willing to turn a blind eye,” Levi said knowingly as he got up from the hard wood seats of the booth to stretch.  
     “Knowing him, he’ll probably be a complete ass about it, just for the sake of acting like a dick.”  
     Levi snorted. “At this point, you’re asking for it.”  
     “Stop it. Come on now,” Isabel interjected, hooking Farlan by the elbow while unsuccessfully trying to drag him away from the table.  
     “Alright, we’re going, we’re going. Leaving now,” he conceded, following her towards the door with Levi trailing behind.  
     “I’ll see you both later,” he told their backs as they made their way outside.  
     “Levi! Tattoo ideas! Think! I want at least four!” the girl with raspberry hair howled over her shoulder as she clambered into a maroon sedan, the blonde man pausing to wave by the passenger door.  
     The dark haired man waved back and began to make his way around the building to where he had parked his truck, appreciating the warmth in the air and the sun on his skin. He wasn’t in any sort of hurry – technically, he still had time to swim his laps, but he wasn’t inclined to work too hard in the pool after such a filling breakfast. It was the pancakes that did him in, in the end. He turned his key in the ignition and the truck rumbled to life, the smell of carburetion seeping in through the open window as it idled in park. For lack of anything better to do at the moment, he lit a cigarette from the pack on the dash and turned the radio on. Classic rock filtered through the speakers at a discreet volume.  
     The parking brake was still engaged as the driver tapped ash out of the open window. Isabel’s order cycled through his thoughts. He had agreed to her suggestion of getting a tattoo without putting too much thought behind it, assuming that she’d barge forward with a plethora of her own ideas to choose from. Not to say that moment wouldn’t come – that mind of hers would probably generate a portfolio by the time he would meet with her again to talk about it.  
     But when left to his own devices, whispers of inspiration began to tug at the fringes of Levi’s mind, demanding to be released. He snubbed out his spent cigarette and locked up the reverse gear, tugging the truck out of its resting space as he released the clutch and feathered the accelerator.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your cameo Annie appearance! Writing their banter was really refreshing. Isabel and Farlan are such wonderful characters, and I feel like they go neglected far too often. Granted, the newest part of ACWNR helped their cause, so hopefully I'll see more of them.


	6. Eren's truck is a rusty POS and I'm shit at writing titles, apparently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> This took a long time to get to a publishable state because of shit. (bone grafts and moving and new jobs oh my) On a completely unrelated note, the motel I'll be staying at until I can move in has a giant fiberglass chicken for a sign and a bowling alley. (and hopefully internet. I'd rather not use 4G the entire time.) Can't get more American than that!  
> So here you go. There's a lot more to follow - you see, I have this awful writing process where I draft everything in various notebooks and then edit/format it on my laptop. It's imperfect, but I can't/don't always have my laptop around and the two-stage process helps me smooth out a lot of kinks and bumps. I have a fuckton of stuff drafted so far, I just need to make time to sit down and power through the editing. So there.
> 
> Some fun things this chapter, including some Eren POV! I'll be weaving in bits of other character's POV as it becomes relevant through the story, but we'll be sticking with Levi for the most part. 
> 
> Music for the week is [Sleep by the Last Bison](https://open.spotify.com/track/6oLxKBr1xrrDAWoVYxVxx6) and [D.O.A. by Sleigh Bells](https://open.spotify.com/track/0JDAC2TweVx2aDKd9rgM2R). 
> 
> Watch me publicly embarrass myself on [Tumblr](http://vagabonddiesel.tumblr.com/).

     He left the truck idling as he stopped by his apartment, digging through the drawers of his desk in search of his drawing supplies. He ended up finding them buried in the recesses of his closet instead, noting the dust gathering on top of the bin they were stored in with disfavor.  
     A few moments later, the truck growled down the familiar road to the boat launch, guided by instinct more than conscious thought. The driver was debating whether the back, the shoulder, or the upper arm would make a better location for the design. He had automatically disqualified any other areas; neck was too prominent, legs just didn’t sit well in his mind, and neither did the chest. He already had a few ideas in mind as far as the tattoo itself - although he couldn’t come close to the detail Isabel incorporated into her style, he could at least sketch out the basic framework and let her take it from there.  
     He parked on the slope, taking a seat on the rock that Eren usually haunted, and began to draft. Something like a phoenix began to take shape in the strokes of his graphite, narrow beak open in a silent cry with wings locked partially open and the plumes of its tail clutched in its talons. Unsatisfied, Levi flipped the page over, tapping at the blank surface with the blunt end of his pencil. On a whim, he started on a sketch of the truck from his perspective, limiting the drawing to the front fender and the parts of the grill and bumper that were visible, a single headlight glaring ahead above the amber marker lights on the valance. He shaded it harshly, emphasizing the contrast between the black paint and the white of the highlights where the daylight was reflected. The sealed beam headlights offered their own complexity in depth and shading, calling the image of a shattered crystal to mind.  
     Levi ended up sinking more time into the portrait of the truck than he originally intended, capturing details like the reflection of the cedars in the chrome bumper and the unpleasant etching of the beginnings of rust on the inside corner of the fender. Despite how well it had turned out, he wasn’t about to get a tattoo of his truck, no matter how fond he was of it. He turned the page again, eyes roving up to the crashing waves of the lake before him. He had always been fond of that one Asian piece with the waves and the long rowboats caught in the swells. The name of the artist escaped him, and he wasn’t about to get the piece replicated on his skin, but he wouldn’t mind incorporating the stylized whitecaps in his design.  
     He hummed to himself and began to draw again. An oriental-styled junk emerged, sharply raked sails pierced with supporting members like the bones between the webbing of a bat’s wing. It’s hull pitched downwards at a dizzying angle, completely at the mercy of the waves that rose higher than the main mast. Lanterns swung from the bowsprit and yardarms, searching for guidance through the dark rage of the storm. Many of them hung uselessly, their lights extinguished by the spray. Something was coiling in the thick mass of the clouds, flashes of sinew where they parted – 

     “I didn’t know you could draw.” Levi’s head shot up, only then realizing that he had attracted an observer. The shaggy haired kid seemed to take that as an invitation and craned his neck to get a better look over the dark haired man’s shoulder.  
     “How long have you been standing there?”  
     “I don’t know, about a minute or so? That looks really good by the way. Are you an artist?”  
     “No.” Levi replied sharply, flipping the pad closed to discourage further observation. “Did you need something?”  
     “Nah, I was just watching,” he said flippantly. The conversation lapsed into awkward silence, Eren looking at the drawing pad with anticipation and Levi refusing the favor.  
     “Do you mind if I watch?”  
     “Yes. You can go now."  
     “Oh. Well, this is my rock, so that means you’re the one that has to leave,” the young man replied, just as seriously. Levi was not amused.  
     “And what makes you think you’re entitled to this spot, brat?”  
     “Well, it’s where I hang out every time I come down here. That, and I accidentally got drugs all over it, so they probably got on your nice pants.” The kid was doing his best to maintain an impassive expression, but he couldn’t stop his smile from leaking into his eyes.  
     Levi groaned aloud. “Please tell me you didn’t rub illegal substances all over the thing I’m sitting on.”  
     “What? Of course not. That shit’s expensive, I can’t just throw it around like confetti.”  
     The shorter man muttered something that sounded like “brats” and “drugs” under his breath as he got to his feet. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to be left alone to his drawing, and he didn’t feel comfortable about sitting on Eren’s rock anymore.  
     “Hey, that’s not fair,” the younger man cried indignantly. “I really don’t smoke weed that often, and even when I do, it hardly does anything for me anymore. It mostly just makes me really tired. And humor-full.”  
     Levi couldn’t think of a response to that worth voicing and lit a cigarette instead, tucking his pad behind his arm. Eren mimicked him, fishing a pack of battered Newports out of his jeans.  
     “So,” the kid began after the first long drag. “If you’re not an artist, what do you do?”  
     “Management.” Eren’s gaze swept over the shorter man’s attire, taking note of his tailored black button down, new-looking charcoal jeans, and black leather oxfords.      “I can see you doing that,” the younger man agreed. “Where at?”  
     “Locally.” Levi replied vaguely, not seeing any good reason to mention his restaurant by name. Eren got a pensive look in his eyes, taking another puff of his cigarette before voicing his thoughts. “Well,” he rolled, tapping the ash off the end of his Newport as he began, “You’re here during the day, from what I’ve seen. Mostly weekdays. That eliminates a lot of places.”  
     The shorter man cocked an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, clearly not enjoying the scrutiny that his daily patterns were being subjected to.  
     “So that means you work nights,” the younger man continued. “And the only places that are open nights around here are grocery stores, Wal-mart, and bars. So it has to be one of those,” he concluded triumphantly. “I’m betting you’re the night manager at Econo Foods, just because you’d look hilarious in their little red vests.”  
     “Tch. You’re entirely off the mark. I would rather embed a knife in my own eye than work in retail.”  
     “So you work at a bar?”  
     “No.” Levi snapped. Eren dropped it. “Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”  
     “What? Dude, I graduated high school like, years ago.”  
     “Couldn’t make the cut for college?” the shorter man asked insultingly. “I hear the local tech college takes all kinds.” He could tell he had hit a sore spot, any traces of mirth evaporating from the younger man’s expression.  
     “I just work part-time. For now.”  
     “Well, do you want to go to college?”  
     “Of course –“ Eren began before getting cut off.  
     “Then go.” The younger man sighed, grinding his cigarette out with more force than what was necessary.  
     “It’s more complicated than that.”  
     “If you say so.”  
     Eren went back to doing the staring thing, though at this point it was closer to glaring than anything.  
     “Spit it out,” Levi drawled, still working on his cigarette. “It’s obvious that you want to say something, so say it.”  
     The younger man snorted derisively. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a piece of work? Like, really, you’re a complete asshole.”  
     The shorter man actually chuckled at that. “So I’ve been told.”  
     “Fucking case in point,” the younger man exclaimed. “The first time you’ve ever had an expression other than ‘pissed’ and ‘resting bitch face’, and it was because I called you an asshole.”  
     “I’m not entirely sure of what point you’re referring to,” Levi retorted dryly. “Normally when you say ‘case in point’, you’re supporting a specific argument.”  
     “Ugh. Whatever. It’s a figure in speech. It all ends up tying together somehow anyway.  
     “Your logic is fallacious.”  
     Eren puffed up indignantly. “I am not a hundred percent sure what that means, but I’m pretty sure that was insulting.”  
     “Was it? That could have been a compliment. Now I regret flattering you.”  
     Momentary confusion chased across the younger man’s features, as he tried to remember what fallacious meant.  
     “Dude. Whatever. Fuck you.”  
     “That wasn’t very nice.” Levi deadpanned, flicking the burning tip of his cigarette on the concrete before extinguishing it with his shoe.  
     “Says the pissy guy who only speaks in two word sentences.”  
     “Touché.”  
     Levi’s eyes searched out the black truck parked on the ramp during the pause in conversation that followed. He had plenty of time before his shift started, but he considered saying ‘fuck it’ and going in early to start on some paperwork. 

     “So,” the younger man drawled, searching for a way to break the silence. “Is that your truck?”  
     Levi snorted. “That’s a pretty stupid question.”  
     “Well, I assumed it was,” Eren said genially. “But it is, right?”  
     “Obviously.”  
     The younger man shot him an irritated look, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.  
     “I was going to say something nice about it, but it’s probably not worth saying anything, is it?”  
     “Probably not.”  
     “Ugh,” the taller man groaned. “How come the douchebags always get the nice cars?”  
     “Truck,” Levi corrected. “And did you really just call me a douchebag?”  
     “Seeing as you act like one, like, all the time, yeah. You’re like, textbook douchebag. I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you.” Levi had been wondering the same thing. Most people would have retreated with their dignity intact a long time ago, but this kid seemed to have a huge amount of misdirected tenacity.  
     “It’s a nice truck though,” Eren continued, undeterred by the lack of response. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it.”  
     “You probably won’t,” Levi responded with a note of pride. “It’s a factory custom.”  
     “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure those trucks are fairly common.”  
     “Shut the fuck up, kid,” the shorter man snapped, responding to the obvious goading. “Didn’t you just say you haven’t seen one like it? Pick a damn side.”  
     “Come to think of it, I think my uncle has one like that.” Eren had Levi talking, and he knew it.  
     Levi pointed at the truck. “That’s a black fucking Cheyenne. They hardly made any of those stock. If that wasn’t enough, the drivetrain and body style combination on that one is as queer as hell. And if there’s any fucking doubt, I ran the arrangement numbers and they don’t correspond to any stock options for that year. So yes, it’s a factory fucking custom.”  
     Eren gaped. “Wow,” he commented, noting the smug look on the shorter man’s face. “I think that’s the most you’ve ever talked. Like, more than everything you’ve ever said before, combined.”  
     “But that’s really cool!” he interjected as Levi drew breath, probably to deliver a snarky response. “You don’t see many of those trucks around anymore. It’s good to see someone taking care of one.”  
     Levi mellowed slightly, allowing his ego to be stroked. “Yeah. It’s a shame. They’re good trucks, and most people bring them to the junkyard instead of maintaining them. Shit, when I was in college, everybody had one of these things. Now they’re an oddity.”  
     “So did you do all the work yourself?”  
     “No,” the shorter man admitted. “I have a friend that’s a mechanic. The truck’s almost as much hers as it is mine, with all the work she’s put into it.”  
     “That’s nice of her.”  
     “That doesn’t have anything to do with it. She’s fucking obsessed. The first time I left it at her shop, she hid it in the woods, said it was stolen, and offered me a different truck to replace it.”  
     Eren laughed at that. “Wow. I’m surprised you got it back.”  
     “Of course I got it back. We’ve known each other for years, I can see straight through her shitty little schemes.”  
     The younger man hesitated. “Hey, what shop does she work at? I need to get my muffler fixed. For like, a reasonable amount.”  
     Levi snorted, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “No shit, you do. The place doesn’t really have a name, it’s just a few local mechanics that share a building. If you want, I can give you her number.”  
     “Yeah, that’d be great.”  
     The shorter man rattled off the contact information, making Eren scramble to get it into his phone.  
     “And you’ll be talking to Hanji,” Levi finished. “Don’t tell her where you got the number, because I don’t want to deal with her shit.”  
     “Ah, right. Thanks, I guess.”  
     “Yeah, whatever.” The shorter man turned and started towards the black truck, fishing his keys out of his pocket without another word.  


     “Well, fuck you too,” Eren muttered under his breath as the truck park next to his S10 roared to life, its driver swinging an arm over the back of the bench seat to get a better view of where he was backing through the rear window. He didn’t bother waving as the black truck lurched into gear, idling away up the driveway.  
     The young man with the shaggy hair ended up reclaiming his seat by the rock, lighting another Newport as he did. His phone opened to the new contact screen from earlier, and he punched in “Hanji” before he forgot.  
     Levi’s abrupt departure had managed to ruffle his feathers. Again. He couldn’t pinpoint if it was just the rudeness of the gesture that bothered him, or if a part of him was genuinely disappointed that the conversation hadn’t continued. More likely than anything else, the shorter man was simply coping with his presence out of necessity. Eren yawned, combing through his hair with the fingers of his free hand as he did so. As much as he tried not to feel guilty about the entire scenario, he couldn’t block it out entirely. But then again, it was a public area, and he had just as much right to stop by as the next person, and if he happened to think that the other man that frequented it was intriguing, then what the hell was wrong with that?  
     He fiddled with his phone, angrily justifying himself until his internal dialogue on the matter wore out. For lack of anything better to do, he hit dial and waited for an answer with the speaker to his ear.  
     “Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded guarded, with a trace of apprehension. It was definitely feminine, but was just at the brink of the term.  
     “Uh, hi. Is this Hanji?”  
     “Yes, this is,” she replied curtly. Something crashed in the background, as if a good sized length of lead pipe had been dropped from a distance above a concrete floor.  
     “Yeah, I was calling to see if you do exhaust work?”  
     “Absolutely!” she replied cheerily. “What do you need done?”  
     Eren ran his hands over his head again, glancing at the little forest-colored truck as if it would yield any answers from that look alone. Truth be told, he wasn’t that mechanically inclined. He could change the oil, he could change a tire, he could change a lightbulb, he _might_ be able to change a spark plug if his life depended on it, but that was about the extent of it.  
     “Uh, I’m not sure…” he began awkwardly. “It’s loud? Maybe the muffler?”  
     He couldn't tell if the stifled noise on the other end of the call was a sigh or snort, but he wasn’t about to question it.  
     “Alright, I’ll tell you what – bring it in, I’ll have a quick look at it, free of charge, and we’ll see what the damage is.”  
     “That would be great. Do you have time today? Just to look at it, at least.”  
     “Uh,” Hanji trailed off. “Yeah, I can make that work. I’m here until six, so sometime before that would be ideal. You need directions?”  
     “Just an address would be great. Can you text it to this number?”  
     “No problem!” she chimed. “I’ll see you soon!”  
     “Great, thanks again.” Something in the background of the other line fell again.  
     “Yup, haveagoodone,” she rushed before the line went dead.  


     He hoped he wasn’t cutting it too close when he pulled up the gravel driveway a quarter after five. In hindsight, he probably should have just gone over there right away instead of hanging around his room with his laptop, but then again, he didn’t know that the shop would be this far out in the country. Eren parked by the only visible door that wasn’t designed for a vehicle and made his way in, unsure of what to expect.  
     Talk radio rumbled from an abused stereo that might have been expensive fifteen years ago, drowned out intermittently by the clacking churr of an impact gun. A younger-looking guy with an oil-stained baseball hat paused from his position underneath a lift to look at him questioningly, supporting a car’s suspension with the hand that wasn’t holding the tool.  
     “I’m looking for Hanji?”  
     “She should be in the office. That back door, there,” he directed with the impact, motioning towards an oil-stained door before resuming with the pounding of the air gun.  
     The door was unlatched and swung open easily when Eren tried to knock. The office matched the rest of the shop, filled with mismatching and re-purposed filing cabinets and a duo of desks, all of them looking at least thirty years old with a collection of dents and stains. The woman who reigned over it all glanced up from behind a pair of glasses with an oily fingerprint on the edge of one lens, pulling strands of honey brown hair out of her already sloppy ponytail as she pulled a pen out from her hairtie.  
     “You must be the guy that called earlier,” she greeted, getting to her feet to vigorously shake his hand, leaving some sort of greasy residue on his palm as she did so. “I didn’t catch your name.”  
     “Eren,” he introduced, discreetly wiping his hand on the side of his jeans when she released him.  
     “Good to meet you! I wasn’t sure if you were going to come out or not.”  
     “Ah, my bad. I hope I’m not too late.”  
     “Oh, it’s fine. This pulls me away from the paperwork for now, at least. So,” she began, putting her hands on her hips. “Loud exhaust, right?”  
     “Yup! I don’t really know what’s wrong with it, though.”  
     “Don’t worry about it. Let’s throw it up on the lift and have a look. Keys? It’s probably best if I drive it on, ours can be a bit tricky to maneuver.”  
     “Oh my god, go ahead. I’d probably drive it straight off the edge.”  


     A few moments later, the S10 was five feet off the ground, its owner and the mechanic standing underneath to peer up at its underbelly.  
     “Well,” Hanji opened, shining the beam of a shop light up to illuminate the rusting components. “That would be your problem. You don’t even have a muffler right now.”  
     “Really? How did that- oh, I guess so. Look at that.” The tailpipe ended about a foot behind the cab, the edges where the rest of the exhaust had broken off twisting jaggedly downwards. “So that means…”  
     “Well, you’ll need a new one,” she answered graciously. “I’ll have to cut off this ripped up part and weld up some new pipe, probably starting a foot or two from where it broke so you won’t have the same problem. Then you’ll need a muffler and a catalytic converter, and I’ll have to rework the brackets on the truck so the new stuff won’t just fall off. And just telling you this personally, I’m not trying to push anything on you, I would think about doing these brake lines sometime soon too. They’re not too far from rusting through, and if that happens, you’ll lose your rear brakes.”  
     The younger man nodded, mouth going dry. Going to the mechanic was rapidly becoming an experience much like going to the hospital or the dentist. At this point, it wasn’t the needles or the iodine smell that was unnerving, but the catastrophic bill that came in the mail afterwards.  
     “So how much would that all be?”  
     Eren almost died when he heard the triple-digit estimate.  
     “But I can work with a payment plan too,” Hanji added sympathetically, obviously not missing the look of mortification on his face. “It’s a little extra paperwork though. You are over eighteen, right?”  
     “Yeah, of course. Yeah, I could work with that.” The bi-weekly quote hurt a lot less, and he could almost physically feel the relief.  
     “Perfect!” the mechanic beamed. “You can dump it off whenever. Just give me a call beforehand so I can let you know if I can work on it right away.”  
     She darted out from underneath the truck, Eren following, and began to lower the lift.  
     “Speaking of which, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get my cell number? Most of the time people just call the shop’s landline.”  
     “Um, angry short guy? With the black Chevy?”  
     Hanji grinned like a Cheshire cat, the recognition plain to see on her face. “You have to be talking about Levi. Angry short guy, I fucking love it. I should get him a shirt that says that.”  
     Eren couldn’t help but smile back at the mental image of Levi in said shirt, but the brunette cut him off before he could respond.  
     “So what, are you one of the kids that he has working the bar these days?”  
     “No, I’ve just run into him a couple of times. I guess you could say that we’re acquaintances.”  
     A delighted, prying look burned into the mechanic’s eyes, just as the impact started its racket again.  
     “Gunther! Shut the fuck up!” Hanji bellowed over the din. “I’m gossiping with a customer!” On cue, the air tool cut out, the other mechanic grumbling something that sounded like “going home early”. This comment went completely disregarded as the brunette turned back to Eren with renewed interest.  
     “You’re that cute bootycall he met at that art thingie like a month ago, aren’t you? So did you do the do, or are you both still stuck on those little not-a-dates?” Her eyebrows waved to punctuate in a way that the younger man would have found hilarious if he wasn’t about to collapse in a combination of mortification and rabid curiosity. Unbidden, his mind flew to an image of Levi “doing the do”, and his throat collapsed as if he was being choked – a sensation that would most likely become a reality if the shorter man ever managed to find out that Eren had been visualizing him shirtless and panting. He could feel his face heating as if he had shoved it in front of an open fire – yup, he was definitely blushing pretty obviously.  
     “I fucking knew it!” the ponytailed mechanic howled, catching the expression on the younger man’s face and taking it as confirmation. “Oh my god, you’re too adorable for him.”  
     “That isn’t-“ Eren stammered, “I don’t do booty calls.”  
     “Of course you don’t, honey,” Hanji soothed. “I’m sure you’re a respectable type of guy.”  
     "No, no, I mean, that’s not it, like, at all. Like, I talked to him about his truck, one time. I’m not gay,” he lied, hoping it would be enough to derail the current conversation.  
     Hanji burst out laughing. “I’m sorry! That’s too bad. Forget I said anything, Levi would gut me.”  
     The lift clanged as it hit the floor, and she released the controls. “Well, you’re good to go! I’m pretty sure you can handle backing out of here,” she chimed flippantly, as if the latter part of their conversation had never happened.  
     “Ah, sure. Thanks. I’ll let you know about bringing it in?”  
     “Please do! Take care, now!”  


     For once, he wasn’t the one waving as he pulled away from the shop. He returned it with a smile and nosed the S10 up on the asphalt road, accelerating hard with a scream of exhaust as soon as his back tires were off the gravel. It was going to be a beautiful drive back. The sun had mostly sunk beneath the horizon, washing the sky in shades of plum and scarlet, silhouetting the trees dotting the borders of muddy fields in black. As scenic as it was, it failed to catch Eren’s attention as he drove.  
     What the fuck had just happened? His nerves felt like they needed a cigarette, so he lit one, nudging the steering wheel with his knees while his hands were occupied. His first revelation was that Levi was gay. Or into guys, or something, and his mind latched greedily onto the new piece of information. Telling Hanji that he was straight was probably a stupid idea, because that information might end up trickling back to the shorter man, obliterating whatever already marginal chances he had. He shamelessly wondered if the dark haired man was the type to top the first night, or if he let that cynical pride fade away into submissiveness when it came to the bedroom.  
     The young man pulled hard on his Newport, finding his dirty little fantasy absolutely irresistible. Though he would never openly admit it, Levi was pretty damn handsome, even more so now that he knew that he wasn’t off-limits. He let his mind run wild a bit longer, indulging his imagination until the entire thing lost its newness and started to grow old before beginning to fret about his brake lines.  
     Eren wasn’t disillusioned – he had long passed the age when crushes and the spark of physical attraction could take control of him and dictate his life. Levi was still off-limits, gay or not. It was obvious that the older man wasn’t attracted to him, and it was quite possible that he already was with somebody anyway. Besides, he was pretty sure that the shorter man wasn’t even his type. In the long run, he’d rather be tethered to somebody who wasn’t such a complete dick. He’d gone that route once before, and it wasn’t something he was willing to try again.  
     He pulled into his usual spot on the weed-choked driveway next to a battered white and gold trailer, parking the truck almost halfway on the grass because of the station wagon jammed almost diagonally in the slot. Eren bounced his keys in his hand cheerfully as he transitioned from the cool evening air to a living hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OR WAS THE TRAILER BLUE AND BLACK?
> 
> Introducing: Hanji! Everybody seems to have their own take on their gender, so, spoiler, in this fic, Hanji is transsexual. I wasn't going to introduce it in the writing as such, because it just doesn't sit right with me to make it blatantly obvious, because in real life, it isn't. It's not like people wear signs that say "I'M TRANS, OK." I think it's a respect thing, too. Respect the gender identification. 
> 
> Also I realize most readers don't know what an impact is, but you might recognize it if you [heard it](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOppsRCePUY&t=0m33s).


	7. Spiked Tea and Bourbon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably a fucking alcoholic, so of course I had to write a chapter that purely consisted of Levi getting smashed. Eren might show up too. There's shenanigans. It's a good time. 
> 
> I got nothing for music this week, so you'll just have to survive. (I'm sure nobody listens to it anyway)

     “Impressive,” Levi complimented, bending over the cluttered work bench to get a closer look at the details of the undulating dragon. Its raspberry-haired maker stood several feet back, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for him to finish his appraisal.  
     “It’s going to start on her shoulder and wind around with the head on her forearm. She’s a skinny little thing, so the challenge is going to be shrinking the design to fit her without losing too much of the detail.”  
     The dark haired man hummed neutrally, his eyes scanning over the design of its head. Isabel left him to it in peace, accepting his scrutiny as an off-handed compliment. One of the greatest insults to an artist presenting their work personally is a brief look followed by compliments that end up sounding more insincere than approving.  
     Levi finally straightened, nodding affirmatively. “I like it.”  
     “I’m glad you do!” she chimed, stepping in front of him to pin the piece up next to other various drafts and linework, maneuvering around the shorter man’s unmoving form.  
     “So, have you been thinking about what I told you to think about?”  
     “I actually made a rough draft of a concept I favored,” he began reluctantly. Isabel’s eyes shot to the drawing pad that was pinned between his upper arm and torso. Infuriatingly, it remained there as he began to wander around the studio.  
     Levi felt a bit guilty for not stopping by earlier. Isabel was incredibly proud of her working area, and had poured her heart and soul into its design. With the exception of the partitioned-off area that contained the work bench and chair, the studio was dimly lit by yellow-hued lights housed in wire-caged glass. The effect was heightened by the exposed cross members and cables snaking across the ceiling, all of it painted over in black. The corrugated steel plating on the walls and counters offset the darker tones, dully reflecting the light from the bulbs.  
     Against advice to the contrary, she had boarded up the front windows, blacking them out with a vinyl film on the interior and covering them with the steel plating, making the area indistinguishable from the other walls. It gave the room a secluded, den-like feeling, which was actually quite relaxing. Levi wouldn’t be opposed to sinking in the black leather couch in the front with a good drink in his hand, and he said as much to the owner, who happened to be rapidly losing her patience.  
     “I’ll make you whatever the hell you want if you just show me the damn drawing,” she snarked.  
     “Jack and coke, on the rocks,” he retorted, taking a seat and adjusting until his back hit the cushions. The couch was deeper than it looked, so instead of sitting like a child with his legs stretched horizontally in front of him, he kicked off his shoes and folded them to one side, leaning against the armrest. He glanced up to catch the amused look on Isabel’s face and returned it with a glare.  
     “Shut the fuck up. You’re not much taller.”  
     “I didn’t say anything,” she defended, bending to rummage in a mini-fridge behind the front counter.  
     “You were about to.”  
     “Me? Make fun of your height? Never,” she scoffed dramatically, emerging with a smaller bottle of Captain Morgan and two cans of Coca-Cola, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch before going back for glasses.  
     “What the hell do you keep this stuff behind the counter for?” he called, looking at the spiced rum critically. “And I said Jack, not Captain.”  
     “I know what you said,” she replied, setting two glasses out. One was noticeably shorter and wider, and this one went in front of the man sprawled on the couch, to his obvious disapproval. “And you get Captain because I don’t have whiskey down here. I know you’ll drink it, so shut up.”  
     “You only answered one part of the question.” He grabbed the bottle away from her hands to mix his own drink – there was a certain ratio he preferred, and he didn’t want her fucking it up.  
     Isabel sighed. “I keep it for people that request it.”  
     Levi raised an eyebrow. “For your clients? That’s a wonderful idea. I can’t think of any way that would come back to bite you in the ass.”  
     “I know,” she said, taking the rum from him as soon as he was finished pouring. “I’m probably going to stop offering it. It just really seems to help some people if they’re nervous, or if it’s a tat in a sensitive area.”  
     He didn’t ask what she meant by “sensitive area”, his mind already envisioning the worst. Instead, he took a tentative sip, feeling the rum bite at his throat as he swallowed. It was well on the strong side, passing the point where it was more alcohol than soda, but that was how he preferred it. He drank deeper, already formulating plans for another one afterwards. Farlan had switched shifts with him for the day, leaving the rest of his night wide open. If he wanted to get hammered with a friend, he would. Because he could, and it had been a long time since he had indulged himself.  
     “Hey, a deal’s a deal,” Isabel suddenly remembered, grabbing for the pad on the table. Levi let her have it without a fight, distracting himself with his drink as she began to paw through it with various affirmative noises and comments. When she reached the last page, she gasped audibly.  
     “Ohmyfuck. This is the one. I liked the others, but this is for sure the one.” She turned the pad to show him, despite the fact that he already knew which one she had found. In the foreground of the page, a battered ship sailed, assaulted mercilessly by a fierce storm. But the true centerpiece of the work was the massive serpentine dragon coiled between the sea and the clouds. It bore down on the junk, claws glinting and mouth open wide to reveal a curling tongue and rows of wickedly sharp teeth, its great breath filling the sails of the ship to drive it forward over the massive swells.  
     “That was the one I was favoring,” Levi commented modestly.  
     “Perfect!” she exclaimed. “Oh, you’re not going to regret this. This is beautiful. You should really draw more often.”  
     “Tch. Maybe.”  
     “Do you mind if I take this out? I’ll need it to get started on the linework. Otherwise I can make a copy,” she asked, separating the page from the ones around it.  
     “Go ahead,” Levi granted. “Take it. Don’t fuck it up.”  
     “Of course I wouldn’t,” she replied indignantly, tearing the draft of the tattoo away from the pad carefully. “I’ll start working on it tomorrow or something.”  
     “There’s no rush.”  
     “It’s not like I have anything better to do. Some lady is coming in to get a portrait of her horse on her arm, and that’s about it.”  
     “Sounds exciting.”  
     “Not really,” she groused, taking the first sip of her drink. The shorter man besides her was almost ready for another one, swirling the remainder at the bottom of his glass before draining it.  
     “So two things,” she began. “One. Where are you putting this? And two, are you getting it greyscale, or do I need to come up with a color scheme?”  
     Levi hummed, reaching for the bottle of spiced rum. “Probably on the back. Might as well make it a bit larger to keep the detail, like you were saying.”  
     “So how big are we talking about? Printer paper big? Full back?”  
     He hesitated before pouring, conflict playing across his expression. “Bigger than printer paper. But full back is pretty daunting. Somewhere in between?”  
     Isabel sighed. “That’s a pretty large range. But we’ll figure it out as we go. Think about it.”  
     “And I want it in color,” Levi continued. “But not too much color. Desaturated? No, maybe greyscale would be better. It wouldn’t fade as much then, right?” He wasn’t quite buzzed yet, but he could feel the alcohol fumbling his thoughts. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, so he downed his second drink aggressively, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by his companion.  
     “Damn, Levi, are you trying to get fucked up tonight?”  
     “So what if I am? It’s been awhile, and I don’t like drinking alone.”  
     Isabel responded by snatching the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan off the table, returning it to the hiding spot under the counter to the shorter man’s irritation. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a smirk.  
     “Well, we’re going to need a lot more than a tiny bottle of rum. Come on. Booze run. My car, because I can’t drive stick.”

     A few hours later, they found themselves at Levi’s apartment with draining bottles of Maker’s Mark and Jägermeister on the counter, the latter at the tattoo artist’s insistence. Levi had finally managed to cross the threshold of his tolerance several drinks ago and was thoroughly enjoying the warm, giddy, disconnected feeling that enveloped his mind. At one point, somehow, Hanji had come over (he wasn’t sure how, or why), bearing a six pack of Mike’s Hard Lemonade and Twisted Tea.  
     “You are so going to regret that in the morning,” she chortled as he mixed one of the spiked teas with bourbon.  
     “I don’t care. This is fucking amazing,” he said sullenly, clutching his glass to his chest defensively. Three watery clanks came from the direction of the living room, where Isabel was dropping full shot glasses into cups of Red Bull on the coffee table.  
     “Jägerbombs! Right now, all of us.”  
     “Jägerbombs!” Haji echoed a few decibels louder, having already downed several drinks herself.  
     “You fucking children,” Levi reprimanded, reaching to claim the last glass and bringing it to his lips.  
     “NO!” the mechanic screamed, pulling his arm down and spilling Red Bull on the carpeting as she did so. Before he could react, she clinked her glass against his and Isabel’s gently.  
     “You forgot cheers.”  
     “You forgot your fucking brain, like you do every day of the week,” the shorter man snapped. “Get this shit off my carpet before I make you lick it off.”  
     A daring look crept into her eyes and Hanji shared it with the other lady.  
     “Do it,” Isabel encouraged.  
     “No, fuck. Oh my god.” Levi groaned as she got on her hands and knees above the stain.  
     “Don’t – fucking – that’s disgusting. Jesus fuck, Hanji.” Unable to watch anymore, he turned to find something to do in the kitchen.  
     “I’m not sure if that was worth it,” Hanji’s voice carried over.  
     “Oh, it was. Did you see the look on his face? Last time I saw him look like that was when he stepped in dog shit and accidentally touched it with his hand.”  
     "Really?” the mechanic gushed. “That must have been priceless. I would pay to see a video of that.”  
     Levi wandered back in with a freshly topped off drink, enjoying the spin as he walked. “If you two are nearly fucking done talking about being disgusting-“      “Speaking of expressions!” Hanji practically yelled, pointing at him with a shit-eating grin. This probably wasn’t going to be good. Isabel wasn’t much help, grinning in anticipation from her seat on the couch.  
     “You should have seen this little cutie he sent over to my shop the other day!”  
     “What?” the younger woman gasped, looking betrayed. “Levi! You’re supposed to tell me about these things!”  
     “There’s nothing to tell,” he defended. “Just some drug smoking brat who shows up at my boat launch. His truck is as loud as shit so I told him to see Hanji.”  
     “A fucking adorable drug smoking brat,” the mechanic amended. “I thought he was that bootycall you were telling me about earlier.”  
     Levi groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Shitty glasses, that was almost two months ago, and I distinctly remember saying ‘let us never speak of this again’.” He ended up slurring the last part pretty badly.  
     “Oh, but you should have seen his face!” Hanji repeated. “I thought he was going to self-destruct.”  
     “I want to see his face!” Isabel whined.  
     “Nobody gets to see his face,” Levi snapped. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Leave it alone.”  
     “But it does! Look how hot and bothered he’s getting,” she said conspiratorially, draping her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. Isabel nodded affirmatively.  
     “That’s not it at all.” The shorter man crossed his arms over his chest, trying his best to look authoritative despite the fact that he was really getting thrown off by the way the room was moving around him. He managed to last about fifteen seconds before stumbling over absolutely nothing, which was pretty impressive, given the fact that standing still. Sitting now. Yeah, sitting was good.  
     “Ah! Denial!” the tattoo artist goaded.  
     “I will come over there and shove both of your heads so far up your asses,” he slurred threateningly, unable to think of an intimidating enough finisher.  
     “I have his number,” Hanji began in a sing-song voice, waving her cell phone in the air.  
     “I don’t fucking care.”  
     “Oh, but he does,” Isabel stage whispered.  
     “Can we be fucking done with this already? It's getting old.” Levi erupted.  
     “Nope,” the ponytailed mechanic chirped. “You have to say it.”  
     “Say what?”  
     “Your deepest, darkest, most inmost feelings for the gorgeous young man with the ocean eyes.”  
     “He’s an annoying snotrag that dresses like a homeless person. There. Are you satisfied?”  
     “But,” Isabel interjected dramatically. “He’s cute.”  
     “That has nothing to do with anything.”  
     Hanji shrieked with excitement, immediately making him regret his choice of an answer.  
     “An admission! I’m going to call him right now to tell him the good news.” She excitedly fumbled with her phone, managing to get as far as the contacts page before Levi launched himself at her, prying it from her grip after a heated struggle. Isabel was in stitches, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she shook with laughter. Hanji sulked.  
     “You know it’s not gentlemanly to force yourself on a woman like that.”  
     “Oh, fuck off Hanji,” he retorted, extricating himself from a position that would look extremely inappropriate from the perspective of anybody that might happen to walk in at that moment. Unsure of what to do with her phone now that he had it, he went over to shove it between the branches of his fake potted plant…tree thing. Surprisingly, the mechanic made no immediate move to retrieve it, too occupied with whispering something inaudible to Isabel, or too drunk to care.  
     Speaking of which, he had misplaced his drink. After a brief and inebriated search, he managed to find it by tripping over the glass, spilling it all over the carpeting.  
     “Why the fuck is this on the floor?” he snapped, retrieving the glass and almost falling down as he tried to peel the booze-soaked sock off his foot.  
     “You put it there, dipshit,” Hanji answered mockingly. Levi shook his head.  
     “Fuck you. I wouldn’t do something stupid like that. Go make me another one, shit-glasses.” Hanji barked with laughter.  
     “The hell I am. You spill it, you make a new one.”  
     The shorter man was too set on getting smashed to argue and went back to the kitchen, eager to rinse the stickiness off his fingers from the split drink. He got a fresh glass and cracked open a Mike’s Hard Lemonade, mixing it with an unhealthy amount of vodka from a dusty bottle above the fridge.  
     “Levi, you’re gonna fucking kill yourself,” Isabel warned from her observational spot on the couch. He waved his glass at her in response, spilling it on his hand. Again. Fuck.  
     “This…this is a man’s drink,” he slurred before chugging a good third of it in one go.  
     “No, you’re just moronic,” the younger woman retorted, prepping another Jägerbomb for herself.  
     “Still smarter than you.” Isabel flipped him off.  
     He wandered back over to sit – or rather, collapse on the couch between the mechanic and the tattoo artist. They sat in unbroken peace for about a full minute before Hanji began to prod him in the ribs with her elbow.  
     “Levi. I’m bored. Put something on TV.”  
     The dark haired man groaned loudly, flopping his head back to stare at the ceiling. The corners where the walls converged twitched disconcertingly, and he remained like that, trying and failing to track their movements.  
     He jolted forward when his neighbor flicked his exposed Adam’s apple – hard. He rubbed at his larynx with one hand while shooting the perpetrator a murderous glare.  
     “The remote is right. Fucking. There.”  
     “You have Dish. Everything’s all weird.”  
     “Jesus Christ, Hanji,” he snapped, making a sudden swipe for the remote and overshooting it spectacularly. He fumbled with the buttons for a moment before the screen flashed on with a burst of noise, scrolling impatiently through the guide before settling on old classic movie reruns.  
     “Are you trying to put me to sleep?” the brunette complained.  
     “Yes. Shut the fuck up.” Isabel chuckled from his other side and shifted into a more comfortable position, drawing her feet up beside her. The apartment settled into an easy silence, broken only by the sounds of galloping horses, gunshots, and cigarette-roughened dialogue.  


     Levi wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but he woke up on the couch with his head resting on Isabel’s thigh and with Hanji crammed between the small of his back and the back of the couch. He only had a few seconds to take this in before he was suddenly reminded of the reason why he had woken up in the first place. Stomach churning, he bolted to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before violently throwing up. His entire body convulsed as his stomach muscles contracted uncontrollably, hell-bent on ensuring every last trace of its contents would be expelled.  
     The dark haired man shuddered for a final time, too weak to move from his position above the bowl at the moment. He got unsteadily to his feet, rinsing out the foul taste of acid from his mouth with tap water before starting with a toothbrush. It seemed as if every one of his muscles had been wrung out and stretched across his bones, and while his nausea had temporarily subsided after the evacuation of his stomach, it was already back with a vengeance.  
     Holy hell, he felt terrible. Fuck this, he was never going to mix two different alcohols again, no matter how good that spiked tea and whiskey blend was. He rinsed the remnants of toothpaste from his mouth, catching a glimpse of his disheveled appearance in the mirror as he straightened. Black strands of hair had begun to clump together, shining a bit excessively. A dusting of stubble shadowed his jawline, and above this, stormy grey eyes tinged with pink at the corners stared back at him. Levi grimaced. He felt fucking disgusting, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he could manage to remain upright long enough to take a shower.  
     He drew a bath instead, drizzling shampoo underneath the stream of hot water to make bubbled. It had been awhile since he last had a bath, and he was going to enjoy it as much as his hangover-crippled body could. While the tub was filling, he wandered over to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water, leaning heavily against the wall as he poured. Hanji and Isabel were still asleep on the couch – or so he thought, until the brunette cracked open an eye to wave lazily at him.  
     Levi turned on his heel and retreated to the safety of the bathroom. He was too fucking sick to deal with her, or anything that didn’t involve the warm water of the bathtub. He closed the door behind him and began to strip with the unsteady slowness of exhaustion, kicking his clothes in the corner before easing into the scalding water and cutting off the tap.  
     He slipped further in until even his face was submerged, rubbing at his features roughly with the heels of his palms before the temperature became too much to bear. He lunged upright, blindly searching for the towel he had hung to wipe his eyes with, but his gut roiled at the sudden movement and he found himself over the toilet again, half of his body still in the tub as he threw up the contents of a glass of water tinged yellow with stomach acid. Just when he thought it was over, a second wave hit him by surprise, and he could feel his sinuses burning as he choked and sputtered the rest of it out.  
     At least he felt better now, if only for a minute. He was out of the tub to brush his teeth again and back in a few moments later, though no amount of mouthwash was able to take the smell of vomit out of his nose. Levi rested with his head set on the back edge of the tub, arms floating weightlessly besides him. At one point, he managed to fall asleep again. 

     He woke up surrounded by lukewarm, almost cool, water, and banging on the bathroom door. Isabel’s voice filtered through the wood.  
     “Hey! Levi! Did you die in there?”  
     “I was fucking sleeping, Isabel,” he complained, his voice echoing loudly in the small space.  
     “You’ve been in there for two hours. Hanji left. Are you planning on going to work, or do you need Farlan to stay a bit longer?”  
     Fuck. He had forgotten about that. What time was it now? He hauled himself out of the tub, toweling off and slipping into his fluffy black bathrobe. His hair had dried funny, which could be expected, considering that he didn’t bother with combing it before. He’d have to souse his head before he went in for the night.      He swung the door open and almost ran into the lady waiting almost directly outside.  
     “I have to piss,” she defended when he raised an eyebrow. He sighed and sidestepped around her to get into the bedroom, rummaging through his closet in an attempt to find clothes to wear for the day. Something in his gut shifted uncomfortably, and it felt as if his skull had shattered around his temples, but it wasn’t anything that he couldn’t force himself through.  
     He finished buttoning up his black shirt, leaving it one notch lower than usual, exposing the edges of his collarbones. Maybe it was an odd side effect of being hung over, but he couldn’t stand the thought of anything touching his neck at the moment.  
     Isabel was still in the bathroom doing whatever it was that took woman so long to do in there, so Levi grabbed a slightly-rumpled towel out of his wash basket and draped it over his shoulders, bending over the kitchen sink to rinse his hair.  


     “Alright, I’m off,” the younger woman announced, already on her way to the door with her hair retied and purse over one shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed her leaving the bathroom.  
     “Don’t have too much fun,” he retorted, digging water out of his ear with one finger.  
     “You can’t tell me what to do!” she exclaimed with a parting grin, pulling the door shut behind her before he could respond.  
     Levi finished toweling off and combing his hair before settling heavily at his desk to boot up his computer. As much as he complained about his guests when they were around, their sudden absence was almost uncomfortable. He already vaguely missed seeing the two of them bantering on the couch and their occasional, misguided insults. Getting the cat had helped a bit, but even the best cat was a poor substitute for human companionship.  
     He distracted himself on the internet, navigation around various feeds that he had no real interest in, if he was honest with himself. It was only a way to kill time until he had to drag himself out to the bar for the night, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also known as the night when Levi forgot to turn his swag off and woke up covered in bitches.
> 
> No, I do not know about the mixing alcohols thing from experience, stop looking at me like that…it seemed like a good idea at the time… For you that have never experienced complete drunkenness, I think I nailed it on the head pretty well. It's mostly forgetting things and spilling other things and wondering why the cell phone is in the potted plant the next morning in between puking and feeling like you're about to die. 
> 
> What the fuck happened to Eren? I SAID HE _MIGHT_ SHOW UP HAHA I'M AN ASSHOLE. Really cool things next chapter. He'll show up for sure then, I swear.


	8. A new development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DID WORDS.   
> I am so sorry this took so long, to anybody who was actually waiting for an update. I've been unhealthily absorbed with my new job (diesel mechanic shit is time-consuming stuff, ya'll), and moving, and yeah. But don't worry, I haven't abandoned this.   
> Today's episode is brought to you by beer. Enough of it to probably make even more of a mangled mess out of my usual trainwreck of my attempts at formatting. BUT I WILL PERSEVERE. And sleep hella good tonight.

     A bitter breeze kicked up, blowing black strands of hair into Levi’s vision. He pushed them away the first time, and the second, and the third, but the action became rather futile when it was reversed within a matter of seconds.  
     It hadn’t taken long for his apartment to become stifling - less than an hour, actually. The trip out to the boat launch conveniently alleviated both his cabin fever and the desire for fresh air that his receding hangover brought. The weather had cooled again, partially due to the fact that the sun had been in deep hiding behind thick grey cloudbanks for several days now. Whispy flakes of snow drifted down from these sporadically, melting the moment that they touched the ground.  
     The chill gave the lake an effect that was almost ethereal. The depths in the distance were shaded a brilliant, almost turquoise blue, while the still waters in the shallows were almost crystalline in their clarity. By the time the lake warmed, it would develop a slight haze as the living things within it stirred. But in this season, the lake was a cold wasteland, making up for the lack of life with the shocking transparency of its waters. On a slightly different trail of thought, it was ironic how alike the lake’s bed was to a desert. One, a complete deficit, the other, an overabundance of that which the former lacked, as if they were twins who had gone their separate ways in adulthood.  
     As he continued down the beach, Levi idly contemplated what it would be like to dive beneath the surface and never rise again, to breathe the pure lake water like a fish while spending the remainder of his lifetime exploring a submerged wilderness caught in a perpetual April.  
     He mulled over nothing in particular as he continued on his way, walking through the overlap of waves and shore so that the impression of the tread on his shoes was washed away without a trace. He wandered far down the beach, until the boat launch and his waiting truck were far from sight, hidden from view behind a curve of the shore. The empty faces of houses peered out intermittently from the gaps in the tree line, the season too early for their out-of-state owners to inhabit them. Their windows were dark, their driveways were empty. Levi kept walking, ignoring the growing numbness in his fingers and toes. It was already going to be a bitch of a walk to get back to his truck, but he didn’t want to turn around. Not yet.  
     He hesitated only when he came across a turnaround that protruded beyond the residential lots, its asphalt practically laying on the upper section of the beach. He approached it driven by a curiosity to discover what road it had branched off of, somewhat surprised that it had managed to escape his attention for so long.

     The majority of the strip was hidden from view from above beneath dense cedar boughs, providing plenty of shade even when most other tree had barely begun to bud. He almost missed the compact truck squeezed against the treeline, but when it caught his eye, he recognized it immediately. So this was the reason why the kid had been absent from the boat launch for so long. Had he been avoiding him? For some reason, the concept irritated him, so he strode determinedly towards the truck to confront him about it.  
     The tailgate was down, and the glass window of the cap over the bed was open, resting on its shocks, to reveal an interesting scene. An air mattress took up the majority of the small bed, draped with a mismatched assortment of blankets and pillows. An open cooler was wedged next to it in a corner, and on the tailgate, a hotplate was bringing a pot of water to a boil, an extension cord snaking from underneath the driver’s side door to power it. In the midst of it all, a familiar young man stood, dicing a hot dog into cubes on a paper plate while humming along to an upbeat song playing from the straining speakers of his outdated cell phone.  
     Levi’s sudden appearance caught them both off guard. Eren broke off mid-stanza, jumping to turn his body as if he could shield the sight from the intruder’s view using only his torso.  
     “What the hell are you doing out here?” the younger man began defensively.  
     “Speak for yourself. The fuck is this?”  
     Eren mirrored Levi’s crossed-arm stance, scowling despite the rosy flush spreading up his neck. The inappropriately peppy pop music continued to play in the background.  
     “Nothing. I’m camping,” he contradicted.  
     “Really,” Levi deadpanned. “Normally people rent a spot at a campground for that sort of thing, instead of hiding in shitty dead ends.”  
     “Campgrounds are overrated,” Eren huffed, turning away from Levi’s uncomfortable stare to add the hot dog to what looked like ramen noodles in the pot. “I like to get off the grid.”  
     Levi sighed and rolled his eyes at the younger man’s back. Finding him here like this raised a lot of questions, of which camping was not a believable answer. Unbidden, a small knot of worry began to tug at his mind. Even if the kid wasn’t called into the police by an irate homeowner, it was still bitterly cold, and running appliances off the truck’s battery like he was doing could easily leave him stranded with a vehicle that wouldn’t start. Unsure of how to approach the issue, he leaned against the side of the truck, watching him prepare the meal.  
     “Look,” Eren began after a few minutes of awkward silence, forking the hot noodles into a bowl. “I’m fine. And it’s really none of your business anyway.”  
     “You’re living out of the bed of your truck,” Levi countered. “Spent all your money on drugs?”  
     “I didn’t ask you to come out here and fucking judge me, alright?” Eren erupted. “Just fuck off already. I’m fucking sick of people like you. You have no idea of where I’m coming from or how I got here, so you can take any misinformed advice you have and shove it up your ass where it came from.”  
     To his irritation, instead of provoking an outraged response, the shorter man’s eyebrows were drawn up in something that resembled a pitying expression.   
     “We’ve all been in tough situations before,” Levi began evenly. Eren cut him off.  
     “I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’m really not in the mood for this right now. Why don’t you just leave? You haven’t had a problem with doing that before.”

     To his surprise, Levi did just that, raising an eyebrow quizzically before turning on his heel and retreating towards the beach without another word. The younger man watched him until the trees hid him from sight. His departure had been completely unexpected, despite the fact that Eren had specifically asked for it. The younger man sighed and began to work on his dinner, his temper subsiding as quickly as if it had been doused with water. He forked the noodles into his mouth almost mechanically, then went about the motions of setting up for the night, wrapping up the extension cord and stowing away the now-cool hotplate. He brought his dishes down to the waterside to rinse them out in the lake, running his fingers over the food-coated surfaces to dislodge the remnants of his meal until it was smooth to the touch again. It didn’t really qualify as washing them, but it was close enough to count.  
     He made his way back to his truck, hesitating when he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle. A pair of headlights swung around the corner, their contrast to the dimming evening light blinding him momentarily before they swung to the side. Eren stared rather stupidly at the black truck and its recognizable driver, holding his dishes against his chest to keep the pile from falling.  
     “You. Pack up your shit and follow me.”  
     Eren looked at the shorter man suspiciously. “Follow you where?”  
     “My place. Look-" Levi cut the younger man off before he could voice his response. “I don’t care about your reasons, or why you’re living in a truck, or any of that shit. I couldn’t really care less. It’s the coldest night of the month, and you can’t tell me that you’d rather spend it out here than indoors. So you can shut up and take the offer, or choke to death on your pride. Your choice.”  
     Eren sighed audibly, averting his gaze. “Fine.”  
     Levi idled patiently as the younger man locked up the back of the S10 and got in the cab, the small engine cranking over sluggishly before catching with a tinny rumble. The shorter man edged the black Chevy around in a tight Y-turn and pulled away, checking his rearview to confirm that he was being followed.   
     He lit a Turkish Gold as the duo of vehicles made their way down the darkening country roads. Inviting the kid to stay at his place was a bit of a drastic step, but the alternative was even more unfavorable. In some twisted way, he considered it to be his debt to pay – after all, at that age, if his _Mamam_ hadn’t taken him under her wing, he would have most likely would up in a situation very similar to the one he had just interrupted.  
     Levi pulled at his cigarette as he considered the implications of his relatively rushed decision. It was, by no means, a permanent solution. The apartment only had one bedroom, so the kid would have to make do with the couch. With any luck, he wouldn’t be a complete slob; the idea of sharing his bathroom was uncomfortable enough without that added factor. Guest or not, if he was the type to souse the bathroom floor with water after every shower, Levi was going to smack him upside the head with a mop.  
     He continued to obsess over the specific details of the younger man’s stay until the pulled into the apartment’s parking lot, not long after the last of the daylight had faded from the horizon.  
     “Thanks for doing this, by the way.”  
     Levi swiveled in his office chair, glancing at the younger man situated on the couch from above his glasses. They hadn’t spoken much since the shorter man had barged in on Eren’s makeshift living arrangements, aside from his rundown of the apartment. He had been treated to a proper dinner, courtesy of Levi, and the two of them had settled down for the evening, Levi at his computer while Eren flipped between shows on Netflix.  
     “It’s the least I could do.”  
     “No, I mean,” the younger man floundered, at a loss for words. “I know it’s a lot. I mean, we barely know each other, and yeah. Thanks. I won’t be here for long, only until I get enough together to get back on my feet.  
     Levi nodded. “It’s fine. Do you need a job?”  
     Eren shook his head. “I actually just started a gig for Lewinski farms last week. I’ve worked the summers for them before, and it’s good pay. Long ass days though, I’ve been on the tractor from five to nine during peak time.”  
     Levi hummed a note that sounded vaguely displeased. “Don’t make my apartment smell like manure. Please.”  
     “Oh, don’t stress. I shower at work and bring a change of clothes normally anyway.”  
     The shorter man nodded approvingly. Eren swung his legs up on the couch, stretching out to his full length and resting his head on the armrest.  
     “I kindof owe you an apology for blowing up earlier, too.”  
     Levi raised an eyebrow – that seemed to be a default reaction for him. “No, you had a point. After all, I don’t have much right to pry into your affairs.”  
     “Oh,” Eren began, not expecting to be agreed with in that regard, but enjoying it nonetheless. “Well, you deserve at least some sort of explanation.”  
     The shorter man tapped the end of his pen on a pad of paper. “Whether or not I deserve an explanation is irrelevant. I don’t really care either way,” he stated bluntly. “Shit happens, and it can’t always be avoided. I’ve been through enough of it to make it my mantra. As long as you have the strength to pull yourself back up on your feet at the end of the day, nothing else really matters. You’re free to stay here as long as you’re pushing forward.”  
     Eren took a moment to digest the information, made more profound by the fact that it came from a man who usually used only a handful of words at a time.   
     “It’s stupid, really,” he began, pausing the show. “I don’t have a huge, dramatic story, or some traumatizing life event, or anyone to blame, really. I’m twenty one, and I live, well, yeah, live in my foster dad’s trailer. I’ve been working at farms and shitty part time jobs since I graduated high school, because I’m broke as fuck and can’t afford college because my dad, well, foster dad, thinks that FAFSA is a government conspiracy and loans are the equivalent of making contracts with the devil.”  
     Levi was the perfect audience, listening without interruption or posing questions. Eren found the attention somewhat disconcerting, but continued regardless. “And every now and then, he throws an absolute shitfit – usually over something completely pointless, like me forgetting to do something he asked me to do, or when I call him out for sneaking my cigarettes. I’m too much of an idiot to back down, so it usually ends with him threatening to call the cops on me if I don’t get out of the house. I crash at a friend’s place for a week or two until things cool off, then go back and it’s like nothing ever happened. Then it usually happens again a few months later. It’s a stupid fucking cycle.”  
     The shorter man hummed thoughtfully. “You said you wanted to go to college though, right?”  
     “Well, yeah,” Eren responded, somewhat surprised that he had taken note during their previous conversation.  
     “Can’t you apply for federal aid?”  
     Eren snorted humorlessly. “That’s what FAFSA is. But you need consent from a parent or whatever if you’re under twenty six. I don’t know why they set it up that way – it’s fucked, and there’s no way around it, I tried. I was just planning on saving up as much as I could until then. Besides,” he continued, “I’m not even sure what I’d go for. Probably something in the industry, like welding, or CNC.”  
     “If that’s what you want to do, go for it. You’ll get there eventually if you apply yourself.”  
     “Well, yeah, I know. That’s what I’ve been doing. I have a decent amount saved up already. I should have enough to start the year after this, if everything goes alright. Until then, I’ll just have to work my ass off.”  
     Levi nodded approvingly, but didn’t add anything further to the conversation, turning in his chair to continue his work on Excel. The shorter man ended up retiring to his room about a half-hour later with a muttered “goodnight,” leaving the younger man with the cat and a horrible reality TV show for company. 

 

     When Levi emerged the next morning, his guest was gone and the blankets he had used the night before were folded in a neat pile to one side of the makeshift bed. He momentarily wondered if he had left for good, but then caught sight of the unfamiliar duffel bag underneath the coffee table and the cord of a phone charger that wasn’t his snaking out from a wall outlet.  
     For some reason, seeing the younger man’s things in his living room was reassuring. If they hadn’t been there, he might have done something stupid, like driving out to sour the nooks and crannies of the lakefront backroads to talk some sense into him.  
     Some miles away, the diesel engine in a tractor coughed to life, it’s shaggy haired operator setting it at a high idle to get it – and the cab – warmed up for the day’s work ahead of him. He had expected the night at Levi’s place to be terse and relatively uncomfortable, given how the guy had behaved in previous conversations, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected. He actually kind of liked talking with him, as brief as their conversations had been.  
     Maybe this new development wasn’t as bad as either of them had assumed it would be.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EIGHT CHAPTERS IN AND WE'RE FINALLY STARTING TO BUILD. WHAT.   
> It can only keep going from here!


	9. Mornings and Evenings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BACK. And the Ereri is building, building, building. ^^

      It was almost eleven at night by the time the apartment door shuddered closed. Levi swiveled in his chair to watch the younger man collapse face-first on the couch, exhaustion radiating from his posture. He grinned and waved weakly from his horizontal position when he realized that he had an audience, strands of hair still damp from a recent washing slipping out from behind his ears to fall in front of his eyes.  
      Levi swirled his glass of brandy, blending the melting ice with the liquor. “They really work you hard, don’t they?”  
      He hadn’t really known what to expect since he invited Eren into his living quarters, but he had imagined a situation far more invasive than the current one. Except for the stack of blankets folded on the couch and the small stash of food that he hadn’t bought in the fridge, it was almost as if nothing had changed in the small apartment. Levi didn’t even have reason to worry about sharing his shower, seeing as his houseguest used the one at the farmhouse every night.  
      Eren worked long days at the farm, leaving before the sun rose and not returning until well after sundown – and at that point, Levi was already at the restaurant. The times that they actually saw each other in any state of consciousness were few and far in between.  


      “It’s spring,” Eren replied, as if that were answer enough. Noting Levi’s silence, he elaborated. “There’s a shit-ton of work to do, and not enough time to do it. Everything’s a rush for time and should have been done, like, yesterday. And it’s a literal shit-ton. I was pulling the spreader all day today. My ass has molded itself into the shape of a tractor seat, I can feel it.”  
      Levi grimaced at the mention of manure while simultaneously steering his thoughts away from the subject of Eren’s ass.  
      “You’d think they’d give you a day off, though. You’ve been working straight for what, two weeks now?”  
      “Seventeen days,” he corrected. “And it’s not like they can, really, not until we get back on schedule. The John Deere fucked up catastrophically last week, and it took five days to get it out of the shop. That really hosed things up. You can have as many people working as you want, but if you’re short a tractor, you’re screwed and there’s no good way around it until you get it back.”  
      “Hm. Well, don’t overwork yourself, kid.”  
      “Oh, no worries,” Eren replied flippantly, despite the fact the rest of him was screaming ‘burnt out’. “Things should calm down soon. Spring is always crazy like this. Oh, speaking of that, I stopped by my dad’s place the other day.”  
      Levi raised an eyebrow. “And?”  
      “He’s cool again. I was probably going to head back within the next few days or something.”  
      “Oh?” Levi responded, struggling to organize his thoughts into a tactful reply through the light buzz induced by the brandy.  
      “Yeah, it’s alright. It’s not like I’ll be around much anyway, so things should be fine. I mean, I’ve probably already overstayed -”  
      “Eren,” Levi blurted, cutting him off. It got the younger man’s attention, and the way he was staring at him was almost heady. Was that the first time he had addressed him by name?  
      It was definitely time to cut himself off before he could embarrass himself by stupidly misreading perfectly normal situations.  


      "Tell me honestly,” he began as he strode up to the couch, abandoning the alcohol to plant a palm possessively by the side of Eren’s resting head, leaning over him so he could look directly into those eyes.  
      “Do you find me attractive?”  


      Fuck no, that was a terrible idea. What part of his mind was responsible for this? He needed to dig it out and burn it. In the meantime, Eren was waiting patiently for him to continue, completely oblivious to the nature of the internal struggle across the room. As inhibiting as the brandy was, it made a damn good excuse for moments like these.  
      “Honestly, would it be good for you – well, would you want to go back?”  
      Eren almost looked embarrassed at the question. “Well, I mean, it’s been nice. Being here. I really don’t want to like, be intrusive. I know it’s been a few weeks since when I said I’d be out of here. It’s probably pretty annoying to have somebody crash on your couch. I mean, hell, I’d get sick of it too, probably. I mean, it’s really no big deal if I go back, he’s not going to beat the shit out of me or anything like that.”  
      “I really don’t care. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you feel like. I have no problem as long as you continue to not trash the place.”  
      “Are you sure?”  
      “Why the hell would I offer otherwise?”  
      “Well…alright. Thanks.”  
      “You’re welcome.”  


      The conversation faltered to an awkward silence. For lack of anything better to say, Levi turned to face the computer again, pulling up the spreadsheet he had been working on beforehand. The television flickered on, murmuring quietly as Eren scrolled through the channels.  
      This…this wasn’t bad at all.  


      Levi retired to his own room when he glanced over only to see Eren passed out beneath the comforter spread over the sofa. He quietly shut down the desktop and made his way across the living room, turning out the light but leaving the TV on – Eren seemed to make a habit out of letting it play while he slept. Or at least, it was normally on when he got from his shift in the early hours of the morning.  
      The cat was waiting for him on the mattress in his bedroom and he wasted no time in joining her, falling asleep relatively quickly despite his usual insomnia.  


  
  
  
  
  
      Today was Wednesday, according to the screen of his phone as it vibrated in time to the alarm blaring from the speakers. The middle of the week had somehow become the designated time to rendezvous with Isabel and Farlan at the Steel Bridge for breakfast. Levi enjoyed the arrangement - he had little objection to spending time with old friends and none whatsoever at doing such at a consistent and scheduled time. After all, he didn’t succeed at his position for lack of time management skills.  
      He stretched lazily beneath the covers, suddenly reluctant to get up. A cool, clean breeze wafted through the open window his bed was pressed against, complementing the heavy coziness of his down comforter. It would be a day of sunshine and clear skies, judging by the bright beams that slanted through his blinds. He was tempted to linger for a bit longer but ultimately fought the temptation off, wrapping himself in his bathrobe before he made his way over to the bathroom.  
      For some reason, his inebriated self had not seen fit to shower or brush his teeth the night before, and the combination of stale alcohol and plaque on his tongue was gag-inducing.  


      A few minutes in the shower left him feeling significantly fresher. He went about his usual morning ritual to the accompaniment of smooth jazz, taking a few extra minutes with his teeth before meticulously shaving away the hints of stubble along his jawline, combing his hair smooth, and cleaning underneath each finger and toe nail with a pick.  
      After getting dressed for the day in his usual dark-wash jeans and button-down shirt, he went to pour himself a glass of water in the kitchen. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone this morning. Eren was bent over, rummaging in the fridge before almost hitting his head on the door when Levi addressed him.  


      “Aren’t you supposed to be at work? And that’s a shitty breakfast.”  
      He had straightened with a package of hot dogs in hand, looking down at them sheepishly when they were called to attention.  
      “The Deere went out again, and there wasn’t much else for me to do after trailering it and bringing it back to the shop. Well, I took care of the animals real quick. But yeah, Dillon’s out with the New Holland, so I got the rest of the day off. And technically, I already had breakfast, so this is lunch.”  
      Levi snorted. “What did you have for breakfast, hot dogs?”  
      Eren didn’t comment. He seemed to have an odd affinity for eating the things cold, much like a summer sausage, at any time of the day. Which he was doing now, fishing one out of the packaging and biting into it.  
      Levi shuddered. “Ugh. I’m meeting with a couple of friends for breakfast, and you’re coming with. I can’t watch you eat those in good conscience.”  
      “Wait, you have friends?” he asked, feigning shock.  
      “Yes, I have friends,” Levi fired back impatiently. “Are you coming or not?”  
      “Eh? Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your plans or anything, I’d probably be intruding.”  
      “What, you have better things to do?”  
      “Well, no-”  
      “Then get in the truck,” Levi ordered, swinging his keys on one finger as he moved towards the door. “If you were intruding, I wouldn’t have offered. Common fucking sense.”  
      Eren scrambled to collect his wallet and phone before following him out. Levi was already seated behind the wheel by the time he got the passenger door open, fiddling with his phone with one hand as the other reached for the ignition.  
  
  
      Levi was probably going to catch hell for keeping Eren for so long without informing his small social circle. Regardless, they would end up finding about his living arrangements one way or another, so he might as well introduce Eren while he had some semblance of control over the situation.  


      He turned the engine over as the door swung shut, tuning the radio to a local classic rock station. As the truck lurched powerfully on the road, Eren scrambled to grab for the “oh shit” handle above the side window, abandoning his attempt to buckle up.  
      He shot Levi a scathing look. “Really?”  
      Levi smirked and cranked the wheel for a turn at the last minute.  


      Now, if he were a suave-r man, he would have been able to predict what happened next. You see, it was an older vehicle, back when they made them with smooth leather bench seats, and it was swinging hard into a right turn. Eren was distracted with the seat belt again, and was caught entirely off guard when he found himself sliding down the seat to practically fall into Levi’s lap.  
      “Get your legs out of the damn shifter,” Levi cursed, jostling the bar against Eren’s knees in an attempt to get it back into gear, the engine thundering at a high RPM despite the fact that the truck was coasting sedately down the residential street.  
      Eren jumped back to his side of the bench seat as if he had been burned, his face heating uncomfortably. He had just touched Levi’s _ass_. Christ, his head had just been in Levi’s lap, and his mind wasn’t about to let him forget the sensation of those muscles tightening at the impact anytime soon.  
      “Dude,” he managed, trying to sound as offended as possible.  
      Levi snorted, appearing to be completely unruffled by the incident. “Learn to stay on your side of the truck. Are you trying to get us in a fucking accident?”  
      Eren pointedly buckled his seatbelt. Third time was the charm, after all. “And I thought you’d drive like a grandpa.”  
      “Surprise, surprise,” Levi responded sarcastically, working his way rapidly up the gears after another brutal turn that had the tires chirping.  


      “Where are we going, anyway?”  
      “Steel Bridge.”  
      “Never been there.”  
      Levi shrugged as he nosed the truck down an alley into a back parking lot. “It’s passable. Food is average. Place is clean.”  
      “We’re here? That didn’t take long.”  


      The driver either ignored him or simply didn’t hear, already slipping out from behind the wheel with his keys in hand. Eren wasn’t about to jog to catch up with him, so by the time he made his way into the restaurant, Levi was already in the process of greeting a younger lady with razor cut hair dyed and unnatural shade of raspberry and her taller, blonde-haired companion.  
      The former craned to look over Levi’s shoulder as soon as she noticed him, grinning enthusiastically.  
      “Is that him? Hi!” she greeted, not waiting for a confirmation.  
      Levi groaned. “Let’s get a damn table instead of standing in the middle of the dining room. I’m shocked you’re on time, for once.”  
      Farlan already seemed to have one in mind – the same booth they had sat at last time, in fact, and the four of them settled in without any further complaint. Eren ended up awkwardly sliding in next to Levi, the opposite bench occupied by the other two.  
      “So, since Levi apparently isn’t going to bother with introductions, I’m Isabel, and this is Farlan.”  
      “Eren,” he introduced with a smile.  
      “So,” she began immediately, offhandedly accepting the menus that were being handed out by the waitress. “How do you know Levi?”  
      The mentioned man butted in to answer. “He’s staying at my place until he can figure out what he’s doing with his life. _On the couch_ ,” he added firmly, catching the delighted gleam in her eyes before she could voice some horrifically inappropriate response.  
      “That’s unusually nice of you,” Farlan replied breezily.  
      “Karma,” Levi replied simply. They seemed to catch some hidden meaning unknown to Eren behind that, because they left the subject alone after that point. Eren ordered his drink without commenting.  


      “So,” Isabel began again, steepling her fingers over the table in front of her. “I finished off the line work last night. When are you gonna come look at it?”  
      “It took you long enough,” Levi replied snidely before softening his voice. “I might have some time before work tomorrow, if you’ll be around.”  
      She grimaced. “Actually, I’m pretty busy tomorrow. Tell you what, I’ll just send a copy along with Farlan to bring to work."  
      “Since you asked so nicely,” Farlan interjected.  
      “Linework for what?” Eren asked obliviously.  
      “Levi’s huge-ass back tattoo. He’s going to get it done this week. All in one sitting.”  
      “Huge-ass?” Levi questioned. “I didn’t say shit about the size yet.”  
      “Ah, but you will get it done this week then?”  
      “That’s only wishful thinking on your part.”  
      “Well, it’s going to be huge,” Isabel said with finality, crossing her arms. “I decided for you. Trust me, I’m an expert. You owe me one, by the way. Normally I’d charge upwards of a grand for what I’m about to do on you, if you go with color.”  
      Levi didn’t, fussing with his coffee instead. “Isn’t that a bit excessive?”  
      Eren picked up his jaw from where it had fallen on the floor. “Holy shit, that much for a tattoo?”  
      “Yeah, it’s a pretty standard estimate. Quality work goes for a lot – this isn’t some forearm barbed wire silhouette we’re talking about.”  
      “Our Izzy here is a bit of a celebrity as far as tattoo artists go,” Farlan explained proudly, draping an arm over her shoulders. “People fly out from the other side of the country to have work done by her. She’s even been on a reality TV show.”  
      “Wow, really?” Eren exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing in Door County?”  
      “It’s where all the rich tourists go, right?” she said jokingly. “Nah, I’ve had offers to go out to New York and Cali, but I’d rather stay here with my homies. I get enough people to come out to me, I love my studio here, and besides, Levi here would just wither away and die without my presence to sustain him.”  
      He glared at her over his menu. “As if.”  


      They all got interrupted again when the waitress came to take their orders.  


      “So, what do you do, Eren?” Farlan began when she left.  
      “Me? Ah, nothing as impressive. I’m just working at a farm until I can get enough saved for college. I basically just drive a tractor all day.”  
      “Nothing wrong with that. I used to work at a dairy parlor through high school. Hard work.”  
      “Oh really? Which one?”  
      “They’re long gone. It was just a family operated place. The recession wiped them off the map, and they were on their way out a long time before that.”  
      “That’s too bad,” Isabel commented.  
      “Yeah, the smaller places have had a really hard time of it.”  
      “I know a couple places – ah, the Zimmermann’s, that pretty much just gave away acres of their crops last season because they couldn’t afford to harvest it themselves,” Eren added.  
      This information seemed to genuinely surprise Farlan. “Really? I wouldn’t expect that. They used to be pretty big players. Guess I’ve been out of the loop for too long.”  


      Levi sighed inaudibly, rapidly losing interest in the agricultural conversation. He pulled out his phone and began to fiddle with it, only to be kicked under the table by Isabel.  
      “Stop playing footsie,” he retorted without breaking focus from the news article that he had brought up.  
      “Levi, you’re being rude.” He wasn’t about to make a scene, so he grudgingly locked out the screen.  


      “So, I’m thinking about getting a motorcycle this summer,” Isabel interjected, changing the subject of the conversation for Levi’s benefit.  
      “Why would you waste money on that?”  
      “Coming from the guy who drives an enormous old truck with a 454 for no good reason.”  
      “I like it. And if I ever get into an accident, I won’t have to scrape my brains off the asphalt afterwards.”  
      “I don’t think you understand safety ratings. Besides, I’m tired of driving a sedan everywhere. I want something with a little more spirit. I was thinking a Harley.”  
      Levi snorted. “What are you going to do if it falls over on you? You’d get stranded in the middle of nowhere because you couldn’t pick it up.”  
      “Fuck off, I’m not the first woman to ride a Harley,” she snapped, visibly losing her temper. Perhaps that last comment was more tactless than humorous, as he had assumed.  
      Ever the peacemaker, Farlan squeezed her shoulder protectively. “Izzie will be fine. I think you’d look hot on a Harley.”  
      “Damn straight I will,” she agreed.  
      “If you ever get into any shit, I’ll drive out and give you a hand,” Levi offered by means of an apology. She still looked miffed, but let it slide without further comment.  
      “I’ve always kind of wanted a motorcycle,” Eren added. “But I’d have to get the right license first. And I have to fix my truck. And have enough left over to actually get a bike.”  
      It got a chuckle out of Isabel, at least. “I gotta go through that too. Motorcycle licensing,” she revised. “But I can’t imagine it would be too hard. Just like riding a really heavy bike without pedals.”  
      “I think there’s more to it than that,” Levi responded cautiously. “Bicycles can’t go sixty miles an hour.”  
      “If you’re not going above seventy, you might as well stay home,” she replied brashly. “Oh, you should talk to Hanji about your car if it needs to be fixed. She’s a mechanic, does great work.”  
      “Truck,” Levi muttered from the other side of the table. “Not a car.”  
      “I actually saw her earlier about it,” Eren replied, ignoring the man next to him. “It needs a muffler, and probably the brake lines. I’ve kind of been putting it off.”  


      Isabel’s eyebrows did this thing where they gradually furrowed in suspicion before jumping back up behind her bangs when she reached a realization. Yeah, Levi was going to catch shit for this.  
      “Oh, that’s too bad,” she replied distractedly as she began to pound out a message under the table, saved from appearing to be too rude by the arrival of the waitress with the breakfast they had ordered. Levi’s phone vibrated in his lap as the plates were passed out.  
  
  
      Isabel glanced up to scrutinize Eren, who was currently alternating between picking at his food and chatting about trucks with Farlan.  
  
  
      Levi pointedly locked out his phone and glared at Isabel, who was poorly attempting to conceal a smirk.  
      “So, how did you end up rooming with little Levi here?” she pressed. “Not many people would voluntarily put up with his shit for any longer than necessary.”  
      “Well, it’s a funny story,” Eren began, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. “My step dad kicks me out of the house from time to time? Which is fine, because I’m not usually there too much anyway, I just stay with friends or whatever until he forgets about it. But yeah, most of them moved away now, and I work at the farm in the morning, so I just camped out here instead of driving an hour from their place every day. But he said he was cool with me crashing on his couch for now, so I’m kind of doing that.”  
      It wasn’t really a funny story, because his audience ended up looking more concerned than amused.  
      “Your step-dad kicked you out? Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Isabel pried.  
      “Eh, I mean, it’s not like I pay rent or anything,” he deflected. Levi shot her a warning look – she was getting a bit too far, and the kid obviously didn’t want to talk about it. Fortunately, she seemed to get the message. Unfortunately, she changed the focus of the conversation in literally the worst way possible.  


      “Well, it’s not like we haven’t been there before,” she began easily, a devious light in her eyes. “After all, Levi here got kicked out of his parent’s house for sucking too much cock. While they were home.”  
      Eren picked the worst moment to take a bite, swallowing wrong and choking on fragments of his egg. Levi felt the heat rising to his face, and damnit, he could usually control that type of thing. Isabel was smirking like a cat with a mouse, and Farlan was pointedly looking anywhere but at Levi.  


      “Oh my god. Really?” Eren began, finally managing to catch his breath.  
      “ _No._ ” Levi answered firmly. If looks could kill, Isabel would be leaving the place in a body bag. Eren glanced confusedly between the two, not entirely sure who to believe.  
      “Well, look at the time,” Farlan began, grabbing the bill and speaking a bit too loudly. “Wouldn’t want to open late. It was good seeing you all.”  
      Levi muttered a farewell along the same lines, shuffling out of the booth behind Eren as the four of them went about the process of gathering their things.  
      The ride back was a quiet one, and he would be blind to miss the strange looks Eren was attempting to conceal the entire way home.  


**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU LIKED THIS SHIT, LEAVE A FUCKING KUDOS OR A COMMENT OR SOMETHING. Because those make me feel happy inside.  
> It will make you feel happy inside too, I promise. if not, I don't accept refunds without a receipt. And no, I cannot look you up through your credit card, fuck that shit. I'm not getting paid to do that.
> 
> I'mma dump [the link to my tumblr](http://vagabonddiesel.tumblr.com/) here, because I'm sick of writing it at the beginning of each chapter. You should check it out, I embarrass myself and post pictures of shit, you can observe my horrible sense of humor first-hand, suffer through my egalitarian/atheist reposts, look at pictures of semi trucks and pieces of engines and shit, and of course, watch me shitpost about anime and my lazy bearded dragon. AND BEER. It's a good time.  
> 


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